Learn Me Right
by NeverQuiteAwake
Summary: As a maiden of Vanaheim, Eirlys never expected to deviate from the path set before her. Her life takes an unanticipated turn when she becomes Queen Frigga's latest apprentice, and she finds herself at odds with an especially vexing Asgardian prince. Pre-Thor & onwards. Loki/OC
1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Rated T** for violence, suggestive themes, and sensuality.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Marvel. It's unlikely I would be here if I did; I would probably be luxuriating in a giant cash pile instead.

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**ONE**

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_an unexpected visitor_

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The sky glimmered with the warmth of daybreak. Curling my hand in the tangle of bedclothes, I blinked away the weariness and refused to let sleep steal away the vision that lay before me. Like a child at play, the sun slowly peeked over the horizon, basking all it could touch. A spectrum of reds and yellows lit the sky, the colours shining across the rolling hills and sprawling woods. The lands of Vanaheim looked to be aglow in fire.

With a smile, I clambered out of bed and padded onto the balcony. Leaning on the balustrade, I tilted my face upwards to revel in the burgeoning heat of the sun. Autumn was upon Vanaheim, and soon the clouds would take up residence in the skies above. I'd woken to watch the sun's ascent, the dawning of a new day. Many months would pass before I'd be able to witness such beauty again.

A soft knock at my bedchamber door pulled me away from the sight. "Enter!"

The door opened to reveal my handmaiden, eyes bright and cheery. Somehow she was able to awaken before me every day; and my father called _me_ an early riser. "A fine morning, is it not, my lady?" Arlessa said, bustling about my room to prepare my attire for the day.

"Yes, lovely indeed," I sighed. "I will miss it. The rains will be coming soon, no doubt."

Arlessa hummed in agreement as she went rifling through my wardrobe. She selected a sleeveless apricot coloured dress, one of my more practical garments. "Your father bid me to tell you he's gone to meet Queen Frigga at the Bifrost site."

"My father has?" I furrowed my brow. "But where has Lord Njord gone?"

"He was called away to Alfheim on an urgent matter," she said. "Thus, your father has taken up his duties. For three days, he shall be tasked with entertaining the queen during her visit."

Though a nod from me swept aside the topic of conversation, I was left wondering what matter was so urgent for Lord Njord to leave in the night. The queen's visit occurred once every ten years, a gesture to keep the bonds between Asgard and Vanaheim strong. Lord Njord never missed such an occurrence before. I had half a mind to ask Arlessa what called him away, but I knew she wouldn't have enquired my father any further.

As the sunlight streamed across my bedchamber, Arlessa helped me clothe, tightening the laces of my dress with expert fingers. With a playful tune on her lips, she sat me before my vanity and braided my unruly waves into a single plait. "I am sure your father expects you to dine with him and the queen tonight," Arlessa remarked. My heart skipped a beat at the thought. I held a great admiration for the queen, she who was born of my people. It was not her royal standing that I esteemed, rather, it was her talent for magic. To make her acquaintance would have been the greatest honour. "I'll see to it that your finest dress is prepared for tonight, my lady."

I beamed while Arlessa twisted my plait, pinning it in place with my favourite golden hair comb. "Arlessa, you know me so well." I rose from my seat to face her, she who served as my handmaiden since my youth. After so many years, she knew me better than anyone else. "I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

"Verily, you would flounder," Arlessa quipped. "You'd be completely lost without me."

I laughed. "With that, I cannot argue." I swept across the room, pausing only when I reached the doorway. "If I am needed, I shall be in the house of healing."

She waved me off. "Good day to you, my lady."

Leaving Arlessa to her devices, I escaped the confines of my bedchamber and ventured through the castle with ease. There was a chill in the morning air when I entered the courtyard. Fighting back a shiver, I hastily waved a hand over my head, casting away the cold with a simple spell. I took comfort in the breeze then, feeling only its caress and none of its bite.

Grass crunched beneath my feet as I strolled, lifting my gaze to watch as the sky's fiery glow faded into a deep azure. Little by little, the sun inched its way higher in the blue, its rays glistening in the morning dew. By the time I reached the house of healing, the clouds had rolled in, overcoming the sun and every speck of sky, hiding them away for another day.

I exchanged short greetings with my fellow healers upon entering the chamber. A number of years past, I began frequenting the house of healing with ambitions of having more to offer my realm. Being a lady of the court felt unfulfilling after so many years of needlework, music and dance—all things enjoyable, but in my heart I never felt it was enough. As the daughter of the Lord High Steward of Vanaheim, I believed I was meant to contribute more. I could never be my father's heir, but I would do my best to achieve something worthy.

The head healer, Hyldir, had seen fit to mentor me during my time as a novice. On this fine morning, while examining a patient, she nodded to me upon my approach. "Good morrow, Eirlys."

"Good morrow." I slowed to a stop at the bedside of a fevered child, a small girl named Freidel, who clutched onto her most favoured doll and never let it go. She slept soundly now, her fever broken, or so I judged by Hyldir's satisfied hum when she removed her hand from the girl's brow. "I hope she slept well in the night."

"She did, much thanks to your spell." Hyldir glanced up at me briefly. "Her temperature stayed low long enough for her to sleep suitably. The heat of her fever returned shortly this morning before breaking at last."

I adjusted the blankets around Freidel. "It was the least I could do."

Hyldir reached out and placed a weathered hand on my shoulder. "You've learned much during your time here. Your mother would be proud." I gave her a shaky smile, unbidden memories of this very house floating to the surface of my mind. After a moment, she let her hand fall away and motioned in the direction of the herb garden. "All seems to be well this morning. Perhaps you would like some lessons in the way of herbology?"

"Of course."

The house of healing carried on in relative quiet for the remains of the day. A boy with a scraped knee arrived some time in the late morning. Though I had no difficulty tending to him, curing small wounds like scrapes and cuts were the extent of my healing magic. The day I'd volunteered to work in the house of healing was also the day I started my studies in magic. After several decades of learning what I could, my aptitude for magic had reached a standstill. The paltry library limited my capacity to learn, and there was little I could do to change that.

In the late afternoon, a lady of the court arrived. She looked quite out of place in the house of healing, for her attire was grand and she seemed neither ill nor injured. I observed her as she paced the house and stopped only to speak to Hyldir. There was a peculiar familiarity in the way they conversed. Something about the courtier made me think I'd seen her before, but I simply could not recall.

My curiosity was piqued, but before I could approach, I was diverted by another visitor. Halios, a Vanir hunter, had arrived for a spell to ward him from the cold. Upon welcoming him, I waved my hand in a circular motion, casting the spell I'd become uniquely adept at.

"It will only last for several hours, as you know," I told him. He grinned, and I shared his mirth. So frequent were his visits that he needed no longer speak his request. "Hunt well, good Halios. May your aim be true and your belly full of succulent meat this night."

"Many thanks, Lady Eirlys," he said with a gracious bow. "Perhaps I shall gift you with a boar if my hunt does indeed fare well."

I smiled. "I anticipate it."

Bowing once more, he turned and jauntily marched from the house of healing. As he left, I caught sight of the unfamiliar courtier treading the aisle, heading in my direction. Her eyes scanned the empty beds before lingering over Freidel. The little girl was awake now and slurping generous amounts of soup; she even fed some to her doll, much to Hyldir's exasperation. When the finely-dressed courtier neared, her gaze was quick to fall upon me.

"Good day, my lady," I greeted. "Are you well?"

"I am well." She seemed rather amused by the question. "You are Lady Eirlys, I presume?"

"Indeed, I am."

"You have a gift for magic." She glimpsed over my shoulder in the direction Halios had gone.

"I am nothing more than a healer's attendant," I said, ducking my head. "My magic does not extend further than a few protection spells and some meagre healing."

The lady shook her head and drew closer, the gold embroidery of her ivory dress shimmering in the light. "On the contrary," she said with a benevolent smile. "You have much untapped power, I perceive it within you."

I eyed her carefully, unsure of how she knew what kind of power I held or why this was of any significance to her. Taking in her features and her attire, it was then that I noticed the circlet resting upon her auburn hair. It sparkled more brightly than any adornment I had seen before. My heart dropped and the blood drained from my face when I realized who she was.

I nearly tripped over the skirt of my dress in my haste to curtsey before the queen. "Queen Frigga, I did not recognize you." I felt extremely foolish for my lack of regard. It had been many decades since I last saw the queen. Never had I spoken to her, but I respected her from afar. "I was not expecting your visit here—in the house of healing, that is."

"Do not fret," the queen said. "There is no need for such formalities. I was once a maiden in the house of healing myself." She gestured to the empty beds that stood on either side of us. "Always a good sign."

I bowed my head, my face heated now. To be in the presence of one so well versed in magic was humbling indeed. "Your Majesty, I greatly admire your gift for healing and protection."

"And your father has informed me of _your_ gift for magic," Queen Frigga replied. "Though you may not be exceedingly knowledgeable of the art, I see you have potential."

"I fear my talent for magic has peaked," I remarked. "I have gleaned all that I can from the books we have in Vanaheim. Unfortunately, healing magic takes precedence, and I have never had much of a hand for healing." I shook my head slightly. "I have also taken an interest in the art of protection, though it is not studied by many. You are one of the few."

"Indeed, I was apprenticed to the wisest of tutors. Most practitioners your age would have finished an apprenticeship by now." She looked at me quietly, contemplatively. Then she graced me with another smile. An oddly knowing smile. "I will be dining with you and your father tonight. We will have much to discuss. Until then, I hope the house of healing remains as quiet as it has been."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope you will enjoy your time in Vanaheim."

I walked her to the door, and we exchanged cordial farewells before she made her exit. Standing in the doorway, I watched her go, trepidation crawling its way into my mind. _Of what did we have to discuss?_ I wondered. The curiosity remained as I shut the door and returned to the calm of the house of healing.

The wait for supper's arrival was not an easy one.

When evening fell, I found myself in the antechamber of the dining hall, awaiting the queen's entry. I paced in front of the fireplace, fiddling with the long, dagged sleeves of my dress. My father sat beside me, languidly sipping on his wine. Both of us had arrived early. Father always prided himself as being better than punctual, and I was to be the same.

Long ago, before I was born, he had been an eminent military leader. Punctual and stern, he was known to be. His sense of duty was well-renowned, and the warriors under his command gladly followed his example. During the time of the Aesir-Vanir War, he fought and negotiated with the Asgardians with equal fervour. Some time after war's end, he was among the warriors who fought the Frost Giants from Midgard to Jotunheim alongside the Aesir. So esteemed he was, the previous High Lord Steward of Vanaheim, having had no heirs, named my father his successor.

Abruptly, I halted to face him. He looked up from the small book in his hand and offered me one of his unfailingly patient smiles. I wished to enquire about the queen's visit to the house of healing. Something told me he was aware that she'd spoken to me, but he was not entirely aware of what had transpired.

Instead, I asked about another oddity that had arisen that morning, "Why did Lord Njord leave so suddenly in the night? It was always he who presided over Queen Frigga's visits."

"Njord was called away to Alfheim," Father said, looking back down at his book as if the topic were inconsequential and not worth a few seconds of his precious time. "There has apparently been a dispute between the Light Elves and Frey. Lord Njord has gone to settle the matter."

Frey—_Lord_ Frey—was the son of Lord Njord. He'd been appointed the ruler of Alfheim by the All-Father himself following the Aesir-Vanir War. It was of no surprise that the Light Elves of Alfheim were chafed at his imposed rule. "Has there been much conflict of late?" I asked.

My father shook his head mildly. "It is nothing for you to be concerned about, my daughter."

Turning towards the fire, I clenched my hands together before me and frowned. His dismissive tone was something I'd heard often. Despite its regularity, the sting never lessened.

It wasn't long before the doors to the antechamber opened, a painful _creak_ sounding as it did so. Queen Frigga glided in, clad in a golden gown, her auburn locks piled elegantly atop her head. I wished I had half her grace. And half her talent for magic.

Father approached the queen with open arms. "Good evening, my lady."

"Indeed it is, Bjoran." Queen Frigga kissed both his whiskery cheeks. She advanced towards me, that same motherly smile she graced me with earlier in place. "Eirlys, you look lovely this evening."

"As do you, my lady."

My father smiled graciously, gesturing towards the door. "Let us dine," he declared. "We have a delectable feast to attend to."

We made our way into the dining hall, a long and towering chamber. Stained glass windows adorned the far wall, depicting scenes of nature—the beauty of Vanaheim. The walls on either side sported golden banners bearing the Vanir sigil: a swirling orange-red sun, vibrant and glaring; it almost seemed to glow against the gold. The centrepiece was an ancient table, a gift from the Aesir following the war. It was scuffed and dented beneath the tablecloth and could seat nearly fifty guests. For tonight, there would only be three of us.

"It has been quite some time since I've been in here," Queen Frigga commented fondly. We took our places at the far end of the hall with my father at the head of the table.

Our first course was served immediately: a warm, creamy shellfish soup. I quietly sipped the broth and listened to the queen recount tales of her youth. She'd been the daughter of a nobleman, apprenticed at a young age before toiling in the house of healing during the war. She spoke of how Lord Njord chose her, of all courtiers, to marry the All-Father. As she told me this, she seemed proud of the role she played in uniting the Aesir and the Vanir, her eyes gleaming while she spoke.

When the second course was served—a dish of leafy greens with strawberry vinaigrette—Queen Frigga turned the conversation to me, "Eirlys, I found myself wondering if you are betrothed."

My eyes widened as I scrambled to keep my fork from clattering noisily on my plate. Questions about one's marital prospects were often followed by proposals, or so I'd witnessed. "No, I am not betrothed," I answered. "Though I am sure to be destined for a political match." My father had always been a pragmatist; a love marriage was never to be in my future.

"Do not be so troubled, for what I am about to offer is of no relation to marriage whatsoever," Queen Frigga assured me. "I have been searching for a new apprentice for quite some time, therefore I wish to offer you an apprenticeship. I have seen some of your skill and I have heard accounts of your aptitude." I recalled seeing Hyldir and the queen speaking amicably in the house of healing earlier that day; she must have been enquiring about me. "I believe that you have great potential to learn magic, but you cannot accomplish that on your own."

My first reaction was to look at my father. No decision was ever made without his approval first. I desperately wanted to agree. An apprenticeship would open the way for a multitude of opportunities. I could imagine myself becoming a true healer, curing the sick and the wounded, saving lives. Perhaps even more appealing to me was the idea of travelling to Asgard and seeing all the Nine Realms had to offer. With excitement bubbling inside me, there was a distinct urge to leap from my seat and shout 'YES!' but I refrained from doing so.

Father bowed his head, seemingly considering the queen's proposal. "It would be a wonderful opportunity, indeed," he said. My heart dipped as I thought he would follow with a refuting statement. But he did not. "The choice is yours, Eirlys." He peered at the queen. "I assume she will have to relocate to Asgard."

"Yes, of course." Queen Frigga nodded. "When my visit here ends, she will leave with me." She gazed upon me with kindly eyes. "You may return home as often as you'd like, so long as it does not interfere with your lessons."

"Then yes. Yes, of course I accept," I said, bouncing slightly in my seat. I had to grip the edges of my chair to keep myself from launching to my feet.

"It is settled, then." The queen all but glowed. "It has been many a year since I last took on an apprentice."

"I am greatly honoured, my lady." My cheeks hurt, so widely I was grinning. "I... I know not how to thank you. I feel words would not suffice."

"There is no need. I will be learning from you as much as you will be learning from me," Queen Frigga said gently. Then she raised her goblet of wine. "A toast. To the wealth of knowledge, and those who seek it."

We raised our goblets and drank.

That night, when I climbed into bed, only one thing went through my mind: I had never left home before. Now that I was going to Asgard, I wanted to experience all I could. I dreamed of embarking on grand adventures, of travelling across the Realms to see great beauty and magnificent cities. I knew that residing in Asgard would change my life forever. My mind raced with all the possibilities, the fulfilling future I would finally be able to achieve.

The elation flowing through my veins was so resonant, it wasn't until the sun began to rise that I realized I hadn't slept a wink.

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**Author's Note:** Fret not, Loki will make his debut in the next chapter. I feel as though it bears mentioning that this takes place some years before the movie(s), hence the slight 'OOCness' you may or may not encounter. I also admit to taking some liberties with Queen Frigga's character, seeing as she has all of ten lines in the movie. I kinda made some stuff up about her based on what I found from the comics.

I should also mention that this fic is part one of a two-part story.

If anyone was wondering, the name Eirlys is pronounced AYR-liss. Bjoran is pronounced BE-yor-an.

Since I sometimes use song titles as the titles of chapters (and the fic itself), I feel the need to share it. The song in the story title is _Learn Me Right_ by Mumford & Sons, featuring Birdy (it's also a reference to the sister song _Not With Haste_).

Feel free to leave a review! It would be much appreciated.


	2. Welcome to Asgard

**TWO**

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_welcome to asgard_

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Arlessa scurried about my bedchamber, checking and double-checking that I had everything I would require. Queen Frigga's three day visit was nearing its end. Come morning, I would be departing for Asgard at her side. It had been said that my stay would be indefinite; I expected my apprenticeship to be lengthy, for I had much to learn.

From my balcony's balustrade, I took in the sights one last time before turning towards my handmaiden. "Arlessa, what in the Nine Realms are you packing?" Holding back a laugh, I sidled closer and gently grasped her hand. "I need only a few dresses. The queen said she'd be providing me with every necessity."

Her shoulders dropped. "Including handmaidens."

My heart twisted, but I tried to smile still. "She told me I am not to have a handmaiden. Being her apprentice, I shall not be treated like nobility." After seeing her face fall, I swallowed against the lump in my throat and pulled her into an embrace. I had known Arlessa for the vast majority of my life. Sometimes I felt she was more family to me than my father ever had been. "I will miss you," I murmured. "I will flounder without you, I'm sure."

We pulled away from one another, giggling softly. "Knowing you, I am certain you will return sooner than you think," Arlessa said. "You have always been a quick study."

I nearly told her that I didn't wish to return soon, that maybe I could find a place for her in Asgard. If I became a full-fledged healer, then perhaps I would stay in Asgard forever. Vanaheim had become a place of peace and quiet, ailments were rare. I suspected Asgard—a realm of warriors—would have greater need for my help. But I could not tell her that. Even I could not be sure of what the future held for me.

A knock sounded at the door, bringing an abrupt end to my musings. Before I could react, Arlessa dutifully crossed the chamber to answer.

My father strode in, his large frame filling the entirety of the doorway. "Arlessa, might I have a moment with my daughter?"

With the curt bow of her head, she left the room.

Once we were alone, I stared at my father expectantly. When he did not speak, I turned from him and paced to the vanity table. The silence stretched as I gathered a few sentimental items, wrapping them in silk cloth with a delicate hand. Most important among them was my beloved hair comb—a golden ornament inlaid with small emeralds. It had been my mother's, passed to me after her death.

"This... going to Asgard will be best for you," my father said at last. Glancing at him, I stashed my cherished items away in the lone travel bag resting atop my bed. I said not a word, awaiting him to continue his speech. "I want you to learn all you can from Frigga. And to experience the Nine Realms before you have to marry."

I froze, my fingers stilling on the travel bag's clasp. "I understand... I will learn much from her."

He moved closer, circling the bed to stand before me. This was of great import to him, that much I understood. And yet I remained keenly aware that it had little to do with the advancement of my magical abilities. No, in my father's mind, this venture was designed for me to learn how to be a lady—and a wife—from Queen Frigga. He had never shown any interest in my magic. But I did know that he worried about my future as a lady of good standing since my mother's passing. He worried that I had no exemplar to look to.

One of his large hands came to rest heavily on my shoulder. "Make me proud, my daughter."

My heart sank at the command, the near impossible aspiration. "I will," I replied, my voice hollow. "I will make you proud."

Any attempts to sleep that night were plagued with tossing and turning. The evening was as quiet as a darkened wood; I had nothing but the breeze and the occasional rustle of a leaf to keep me company. Lying on my side, I peered out the balcony windows. Not a cloud marred the sky, and the stars winked down at the tranquil realm. Despite the peace of night, I anxiously waited for the dawn. I wanted to leap out of bed and ready myself for the journey to Asgard and ensure I was not a second late. For centuries, I dreamed of leaving home. And now the time had finally come.

When the sun finally rose, I followed its lead. As always, Arlessa arrived shortly thereafter. She said little as she helped me into a long-sleeved sky blue dress. I had wanted to wear my riding breeches, but she argued that I should look presentable for my arrival in the Golden Realm.

Once I was dressed, she sat me in front of the vanity and brushed out my hair, letting it flow free. I revelled in the feeling as she ran her fingers through my waves, a nostalgic smile gracing her lips. "Your mother had the same exact shade of golden red hair," Arlessa murmured. "Like the sky at sunrise, we used to say."

Tears gathered in my eyes, and Arlessa turned round to rummage through the contents of my travel bag. With a careful hand, she pulled free the golden hair comb and returned to my side. Dropping the silk cloth on the vanity table, she turned towards me and pinned back one side of my hair.

"That's why it looks just as lovely on you as it did on her," she said.

I drew Arlessa into a hug. "I will see you before you even begin to miss me."

We exchanged farewells and promises to write. Then, with my travel bag over one shoulder, I left the bedchamber.

Treading serpentine stairs and long corridors, I ventured to the grand entrance where I would await the arrival of my father and Queen Frigga. At the hall's open doors, I stood in the morning light and watched the sun inch higher into the sky. Eventually it disappeared into the clouds, setting the puffs of silver aglow. It would rain this day, and the cold would permeate the air. I wouldn't miss it at all.

An escort of ten guards came first, the finest warriors Vanaheim had to offer. The captain of the guard stood among them, honouring me with a short bow. My father arrived not long after, as did Queen Frigga. Speech was scarce as everyone smiled and nodded in greeting. We mounted our horses without preamble and rode from the castle, traversing the grassy knolls Vanaheim was famous for.

"Do not fret, my dear," Queen Frigga said to me. "You may feel a bit out of sorts for a time. But I am sure you will like Asgard. Thor and his friends will make you feel welcome."

I was grateful for her reassurance. During the night, fears that I might feel like an outsider in Asgard riddled my thoughts. In the Vanir court, there were a number of maidens I was well acquainted with. We'd often chatted over tea and partook in music and dance together; I had never been wanting for company. To be unwelcome and alone in an unfamiliar place was a disquieting thought.

We reached the Bifrost site just as the clouds shifted enough for the sun to shine through. Upturning my face, I delighted in the daylight one last time before dismounting with the help of a guard. I ran a hand down the neck of my mare, Winifred, and whispered a fond farewell to her. She whickered in response, and I regretted not having raced across the verdant lands of Vanaheim one last time.

Grabbing my travel bag, I turned to face my father who had come to a standstill at my side. He eyed me, his posture stiff, before embracing me austerely. "Be well, my daughter."

"And you, Father."

Leaving behind everything that had ever been known to me, I moved to stand upon the intricate rune embedded in the ground. My legs shook with unease. It had always frightened me to see people travelling to and from Vanaheim by the Bifrost. I'd imagined the speeds to be rather unpleasant; people were but a blur when they went. I tried not to dwell on such thoughts.

Queen Frigga took her place beside me, standing tall and regal. She glanced my way, her calm demeanour comforting. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, unwilling to trust my voice at this point.

She spoke no louder than her words to me had been, "Heimdall, we are prepared for our journey to Asgard."

A light instantly descended from the sky, and I felt its pull, as if invisible hands were holding me aloft. I took the opportunity to give my father one last smile. And then the Bifrost lifted me from Vanaheim and whisked me away to Asgard.

Stars and planets and all manner of terrifying things flew past me as I ventured across the Nine Realms. Light and darkness streaked by like smears of paint. I felt the urge to shut my eyes, but feared what would happen if I did. Before I could even comprehend the speed at which I was travelling, I found myself in the heart of the Bifrost observatory.

I stumbled upon landing, nearly flailing my arms to steady myself. In the time it took for me to find my footing, the queen appeared beside me, as graceful as ever. It seemed as though she'd merely gone for a short stroll in the garden as opposed to making the journey from one world to another through the vastness of space.

Straightening with whatever dignity I had left, I took the opportunity to survey the interior of the observatory. I stared in awe of the golden dome imbued with ancient magics. I could actually feel it, so powerful it was. I had only seen drawings and read about the Bifrost in the Vanaheim library. The dozen or so books managed to convey its grandeur, but to be standing within the structure itself was something else entirely.

"Good morrow, Heimdall," the queen greeted the gatekeeper.

He towered over us, his broadsword clutched between his hands, the point resting against the floor. With his intimidating height and shining golden armour, he was certainly a sight to behold. "I trust your visit was well, my queen." His voice was so low and sonorous that it vibrated in my chest.

"Yes, it was," Queen Frigga replied. "As I'm sure you know."

"Indeed," Heimdall said, glancing in my direction with amber eyes. "Welcome to Asgard, Lady Eirlys. I hope you enjoy your stay."

I curtsied to the great guardian of the Rainbow Bridge. "Many thanks, Heimdall."

Queen Frigga gestured to the entryway. "Come, Eirlys. Let us ride to the palace." Her face was alight with cheer. She looked to be so happy about returning home that it made me feel odd to be so glad about leaving mine. "You have much to see."

We took our leave, and Heimdall gave us a curt nod in farewell.

Just as there was in Vanaheim, an escort awaited us. I was too preoccupied with gawking at the sight that lay before me to notice them at first. The Rainbow Bridge was mesmerizing. Its crystalline surface glimmered in multicolour, lighting up beneath my feet with every step I took. Standing in the mouth of the observatory, I could see the outline of the city's structures and the tall golden spires of the palace. The paintings we had in Vanaheim did the Realm Eternal no justice.

"Eirlys." The queen touched my arm, a small smile playing at her lips. "Shall we continue?"

I nodded and mounted the horse beside hers before plodding forward. As we rode down the bridge, I gazed upwards to see the stars and the never-ending blackness that lay beyond the Bifrost. I wondered at the apparent night sky which bled into what appeared to be day above Asgard itself. Gripping the reins of my steed, I leaned down to regard the deep waters below, calm and dark.

I took this all in, my wide eyes darting back and forth to seize every detail as if it might disappear at any second. Like a dream. A wonderful dream.

When we marched through the golden gate halfway down the bridge, I was able to see Asgard in all its glory. The city glistered in the rising sun. Nearer to the palace, the Rainbow Bridge came to an end, and our horses were soon walking upon intricately patterned bronze. Statues of revered warriors stood guard on either side of the path, casting formidable shadows.

We slowed to a stop in front of the grand entrance where grooms waited to receive our mounts. I managed to climb down from my saddle without tripping over my skirt, much to my relief. Swiftly, Queen Frigga arrived at my side and guided me forth. My mouth practically fell open at the massive doors that opened before us.

In Vanaheim, the castle had a middling foyer to greet its guests, one that was no larger than my bedchamber. In Asgard, I was welcomed by the grandest of halls. It was near three times as tall as the Vanaheim castle, the width four times my bedchamber, and the length an incomprehensible measure. Two rows of pillars lined the red carpet in the centre, and the walls were bordered with dozens of golden-arched doorways. The queen made her way down the crimson trail, very nearly leaving me behind as I stood, stunned by the sight.

We strode towards a set of double doors positioned between two banners. Both standards were the same: bright red cloth bearing trinity knots—the sigil of Asgard. Two guards were posted beneath them, flanking the entryway. They were dressed in bronze armour, armed with spears taller than they were. Einherjar, I knew them to be. The guardians of Asgard.

"Tell my sons that I have returned home," Queen Frigga said to them. "Please ask them to convene here."

They nodded promptly and headed off in different directions.

She then opened the double doors and guided me down a lengthy corridor edged with a vast number rooms. "This is where the bedchambers are located," she told me. At the far end, we started up a large curved staircase, seemingly endless and dizzying. "Upstairs are the royal apartments. This is where your chambers will lie."

The disbelieving laugh that escaped my lips garnered a smile from her. She'd said I wouldn't be tended to by a maidservant, but there had been no mention of my rooms. Upon cresting the long staircase, we sauntered down the corridor until we came to a pair of bronze doors. I took note of the towering doors at the very end, ones larger and far more ornate than its counterparts.

My curiosity dimmed when Queen Frigga ushered me into the first of my rooms: the sitting chamber. It was equipped with a fireplace, several couches, a window seat, and a bronze desk with a matching chair. I was delighted to discover that the walls were covered from ceiling to floor with bookshelves. Only a scant few books stood in one of the bottom shelves at the moment. The rest was bare. I anticipated filling them with tomes of knowledge.

"How do you like it?"

The grin on my face was beginning to make my cheeks ache. "It is more than I could ever ask for," I replied. "I think I'll be very happy here. Very happy indeed. Thank you, my queen."

She returned my cheer. "Please, you need not refer to me as such. When I am nothing more than your teacher, and you are my student, you may call me Frigga."

I hesitated. "Of course."

"Now, why don't I let you settle in and take a moment's rest?" She motioned towards the only other set of doors in the room. "The bedchamber is just this way. When you are ready, come to the entrance hall. There you shall meet my sons." Striding past me, she patted my arm. "I have several matters to attend to first. If you are in need of assistance, please ask one of the guards."

I nodded mutely as she took her leave, shutting the door firmly behind her. The thought of meeting the princes of Asgard roused a strange dread within me. My father always said first impressions were lasting ones. I desperately did not want to make a terrible first impression on the sons of my new mentor. They were royalty, the sons of Odin, and I knew not what to expect.

Taking in a deep breath, I steadied myself and entered my new bedchamber.

The room was immense; I thought it might've been twice the size of my bedchamber in Vanaheim. A bronze four-poster bed stood atop a platform, small steps lining its edges. The posts held aloft a deep golden canopy, the fabric seemingly gleaming in the light. To left of the bed was a fireplace, and to its right a balcony. Beside the balcony sat a vanity table and the largest wardrobe I had ever seen. With a pleasant warmth in my heart, I paced the steps and placed my bag atop the silken ivory bedcover.

I ventured over to the vanity and adjusted my mother's hair comb, ensuring that the emeralds glittered unencumbered. Swiping my fingers down the front of my dress, I felt somewhat embarrassed that I could not have dressed more finely to meet the Odinsons. What I had with me didn't even come close to comparing with the queen's raiment.

Intent on being better than punctual, I left the chambers after a momentary reprieve. Footsteps near silent, I made my way down the stairs and towards the entrance hall. The Einherjar guards noticed my approach from afar and pulled the doors open for me. I expressed my gratitude before sidling through.

I caught sight of the queen first. A bright smile illuminated her features as she spoke to her sons. They stood at the bottom of the grand stairs, which I was sure led to more magnificent halls. When I approached, they all turned towards me, and I made an effort not to halt like a squirrel in the path of a charging horse.

"Eirlys, come and meet my sons," Frigga called, gliding forth to meet me partway. She took my elbow gently and led me closer to them. With her free hand, she gestured to each of them in turn. "This is Thor, my eldest. And this is Loki."

Thor and Loki were as different as night and day. Thor was radiant and burly, looking every bit the God of Thunder he was. Loki, on the other hand, appeared dark and pale next to his brother—a shadow opposite the sun. Despite their apparent differences, they both stood tall and striking before me. So much so that I felt small and insignificant in comparison, almost childlike.

"Lady Eirlys!" Thor boomed. "My mother remarked upon your gift for magic, but she neglected to mention your beauty."

I felt my cheeks warm when he kissed the back of my hand. Over Thor's shoulder, I noticed Loki glancing away from his brother's antics. I could've sworn I saw him roll his eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I managed to say.

Thor took a step back and half-turned towards his brother, clearly attempting to prompt Loki into some sort of greeting. With his attention elsewhere and his expression impassive, I thought the younger prince was going to carry on ignoring me. But then his cold blue gaze met mine, and all he offered was a short, "Lady Eirlys."

"Prince Loki," I replied in kind. He surveyed my form then, not in a lewd manner, but a carefully appraising one. It was obvious that he was unimpressed with what he saw, for he looked away again, unwilling to conduct any further conversation.

I blinked, unsure if he was always so unfriendly or if it was only I who warranted such treatment. Queen Frigga was evidently appalled, judging from the sharp motherly glare of a thousand daggers she sent his way. Loki paid no heed; his regard was firmly focussed on anything but us.

The impending awkward silence was filled by Thor, "You must have a great gift for magic." I wondered if he'd even taken notice of his brother's cold greeting. Perhaps he was used to filling tense silences. "I am most impressed my mother took you on as an apprentice. You are one of few."

I smiled meekly. "I feel I have much to live up to."

"Do not work yourself to exhaustion," he said. Then his features suddenly lit up with excitement. "We shall have a feast in your honour. A celebration! What say you?"

My stomach swooped at the thought. "Oh, I am unsure—"

"It would be a most joyous occasion!" His happiness at the idea made it so difficult to refuse. "What say you, Mother? Should not the rest of the court become acquainted with the Lady Eirlys?"

"Indeed, a feast would be fitting," Frigga agreed.

Regardless of my hesitance, I found myself on the verge of laughing at his eager jubilation. Such enthusiasm could not go ignored. "I am most grateful, Prince Thor. I... I look forward to meeting the rest of the court." I was in fact not looking forward to meeting the rest of the court; the very thought of it terrified me, but I wished to make a good impression.

"For now, we have much to discuss, my apprentice," Frigga said, amused. It seemed her son's unfailing gaiety was infectious. Although Loki was clearly immune. "Let us dine together. Surely you are famished."

"Verily, my lady."

We exchanged partings with Thor and Loki, though Thor was the only one who responded with an appropriate farewell.

As I followed Frigga towards one of the doorways nearer to the grand entrance, I glanced behind at the princes of the realm. Thor chattered to his brother, animated and grinning brightly in spite of his brother's glower. When Loki made his reply, his gaze shifted towards me. Even from a distance, I could perceive the coldness in his blue eyes. A chill travelled down my spine, and I had to force myself to look away.

The remainder of the day was spent in the queen's company. With every passing minute, my comfort in her presence increased, and I started to see her more as my mentor rather than the Queen of the Nine Realms. We dined together in a private chamber, and she laid out her expectations for me. I was to be up at first light and in the library before mid-morning. She was to lecture for several hours, then I would have the afternoons to myself. Of course, she assigned me my readings: five large tomes that I was to have read by the end of the month.

After we finished our meal, I returned to my chambers, books piled high in my arms. In the shadows of dusk, I entered the bedchamber, set the books atop my vanity table, and proceeded to stare at them. There was no doubt that the stack would only continue to grow. I was a voracious reader, but these tomes seemed a daunting task.

With a sigh, I turned away and shuffled about my room to change into my nightgown. The evening was warm, so I threw open the doors of glass and bronze that led to the balcony. Barefoot, I stepped over the threshold, yearning to see what sights it would gift me.

A garden sat below, snuggled against the palace. At the garden's edge, there was nothing more than a squat stone wall separating it from the steep fall into the Asgardian waters below. Flower beds were nestled alongside it, the blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. A fountain had been sited near the centre, the sound of its cascade caressing the air.

Beside the fountain stood a willow tree, the very heart of the garden. Moonlight fell between its swaying branches, illuminating the grass that lay underneath. That's when I noticed the figure sitting in the tree's shadow, leaning against the trunk. His complexion was pallid, his face downturned towards the book balanced in his long fingers. I observed his features, his high cheekbones, the blackness of his hair. I inhaled sharply when I realized it was Prince Loki.

He looked up then, and his gaze immediately found mine. Breath caught in my throat, I whirled about to duck back into my room. In my haste to shut the doors, I pinched my fingers between them. Cursing softly, I scrambled into bed and buried myself in the silken sheets. Silence settled around me while I willed the erratic beating of my heart to slow.

As I lay there, staring at the canopy above, a searing heat crept up my neck and engulfed my cheeks bit by bit. Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhaled deeply and exhaled just the same. I waited for several moments of calm to pass before huffing at myself in exasperation. Fists clenched around my pillow, I turned my back to the balcony and sank further into the bedclothes. I went so far as to pull the sheets over my head to shut out everything in my attempt to sleep.

Slowly, very slowly, I drifted into a much needed slumber.

I dreamt of cold blue eyes that night and nothing more.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to those who reviewed and added this story to their alerts.

Please leave a review! I'd like to know if people are actually interested.


	3. Lesson Number One

**THREE**

* * *

_lesson number one_

* * *

As I had done each day in Vanaheim, I awakened with the sun. I climbed from my bed and stretched, arms high above my head. Pacing to the balcony door, I looked across the water to see the strange sight of the Bifrost and the sky above: it appeared as the night, yet sunlight shone upon the rest of Asgard.

Of their own volition, my eyes drifted into the garden and beneath the willow tree. There was no sign that he had ever been there at all. With the shake of my head, I turned and prepared myself for the day.

I left the boundaries of my room, practically bouncing on my toes as I walked. In the corridor, I asked one of the guards to show me the way to the library, and he did so without a single word. I followed him through the halls, my fervent gaze ensuring that I memorized the route so as to avoid losing my way on the return journey.

When I entered the library, my wits saw fit to escape me. Row upon row of bookshelves towered throughout the room. Every wall was lined with much the same: books and books and more books. The ceiling stood magnificently high, perhaps even two storeys tall. I perused the shelves, glimpsing texts covering every subject known to the Nine Realms. One could spend an entire lifetime attempting to read them all and never succeed.

I strode the length of the grand chamber and stopped to observe the ceiling to floor window at the far end. It faced the same direction as my bedchamber's windows, overlooking the Bifrost and the dark sea beyond.

There were a dozen desks sitting in a line between the shelves and the window. Not far from where I stood, one desk in particular had a number of tomes stacked upon its surface. Leaning closer, I scanned the titles and understood that they were meant for me. Without a second thought, I sat, plucked up the first book—_Healing for Novices_ by Aigyn—and began to read.

Minutes slipped by while I feasted on the written word. When Frigga arrived at last, I shut the book and pushed it aside.

"Good morrow." She sat across from me and tugged the volume closer. "Have you read this one before?"

"No. It may be the only beginner's book I have never read." I'd studied many books in Vanaheim, but no matter how many of them I devoured, my talent for healing never improved.

She nodded and returned it to its perch atop the stack. "How much would you say you know about magic?"

"Only what I've read," I told her. "Which is perhaps not very... substantial. I am most familiar with Lord Meyrick's writings."

This made her smile. "I was apprenticed to Lord Meyrick. It was he who taught me healing and protection."

"You were?" A broad grin tugged at my mouth. "What is he like?"

"He was often a strict teacher, but patient and astute," she said. "His kindness is renowned, as is his penchant for imparting words of wisdom." I noticed the twinkle in her eye. "He's had many apprentices, ones who travelled across the Nine Realms to learn from him, and rightly so." She reached out and laid her hand atop mine. "And now I will pass my knowledge to you as he did to me."

My first lesson consisted of magical theory. She spoke of how magic was deeply ingrained in our life force—a part of our very soul, as constant as the blood in our veins. It took much practice to harness that power within. Those who had the gift of magic often focussed on a particular area of expertise. Most were able to master certain innate abilities before learning other spells. For the queen, her innate powers lent to her mastery of healing.

"In your instance, you appear to have a penchant for defensive magics. You were able to cast wards against the elements without having to be taught," Frigga told me. "Whereas someone like... Loki prefers spells of deception, though he is also well versed in numerous spells. You both have considerable magic, but you are very different in the way you manipulate it."

I smiled, amused by the notion that I could ever compare to Loki. I had heard much about the God of Mischief, that he had a particular aptitude for magic, having inherited his gifts from his mother. Some claimed he even surpassed the queen, but I had yet to see if that was true. To wield even a fraction of his power would have been enough for me.

Frigga and I spoke for hours on end until I had a steady understanding of the roots of my magic. "To understand it," she said, "is the first step towards being able to control it."

She then assigned my readings—in addition to the ones I already had. My heart slowly sank as I regarded them. The entire heap on the table—four large tomes—was to be mine, and I was to have them read by the end of the month as well. As soon as I bore all four in my arms, she sent me on my way. The remainder of the day was reserved for my leisure. Sadly, I suspected it would be occupied by reading. Endless reading.

When I returned to my chambers, I allowed myself a moment to relax on the balcony. I leaned my forearms on the balustrade, drinking in the sight of the Rainbow Bridge. I dwelled on how my father was faring and debated whether or not I should send him a letter. After all, I'd already decided to write Arlessa. It seemed peculiar that I would compose a letter to my handmaiden before my father.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my sitting chamber door.

I hurried from my bedchamber to answer, opening the door a mere sliver. My gaze was met with a broad chest clad in leather and ornate silver. Brow raised, I lifted my eyes to find those of Thor. He grinned at me while I opened the door further.

"You look well," he said, "all things considered. I heard my mother had you up at first light for your lesson."

"Yes, but I am accustomed to it." I cast a glance over my shoulder, towards the couches. "Prince Thor, would you like to sit?"

"On the contrary, I would lead you on a tour of the palace," he replied. "It is your new home after all, Lady Eirlys."

"Please, you may call me Eirlys."

"Only if you call me Thor."

I paused before nodding. "So I shall." Hesitantly, I looked back at the pile of books on my desk. They mocked me with their enormity, all those pages and words—I enjoyed reading very much, but such a challenging task seemed daunting indeed. What was the harm in few hours away from my books? "As for your offer, I would love nothing more."

His response was another broad grin.

The moment I stepped out of my room, the tour began. "Those are my chambers," he said, motioning to the set of doors next to mine. Then he pointed to the doors directly opposite them. "And those are Loki's. At the far end are my parents' chambers."

The ornate door that stood furthermost down the corridor caught my eye. "And what of that one?"

"That would be my father's sleeping chamber. For when he goes into the Odinsleep," he said. I raised a questioning brow, having previously heard vague details about the Odinsleep. But Thor gestured down the reverse end of the hall with a flourish before I could enquire any further. "Let me show you the rest of the palace, all that you have yet to see."

The majority of the palace's halls stemmed outwards like the branches of Yggdrasil, the entrance hall its trunk. Thor guided me past bath houses, courtyards, and parlours. There was a healing room and its accompanying potions room; I knew I would be spending much time in both.

In the entrance hall, at the top of the grand stairs, he showed me the door that led to the astronomy spire. He pried it open so I could see the long, spiralling staircase that climbed up and up into the tower. It was the tallest point in all of Asgard. The thought of walking all those steps made me lightheaded. "Not many are willing to traverse these stairs," Thor said to me. "Loki seems to be the only one who actually spends time in the astronomy spire."

After shutting the door, he headed for the pair that stood beside it. They were tall and grandiose, much like the palace entrance itself. It was set between two marble figures: Bor and Buri—Odin's father and his father before him. The All-Fathers of the past stood with their magnificent broadaxes clutched in either hand, both Aesir dressed in armour befitting of kings. We strode beneath them, sidling through the doors where we paid a brief visit to the banquet hall and wandered past the doors to the throne room.

We travelled along the path that would take us to the library before coming upon another courtyard. Instead of walking by like we'd done the others, he pushed the gate open and conducted me outside. Once I spotted two people sparring, it was not difficult to understand why.

Upon our approach, I was surprised to see that one of the warriors was in fact a woman. She had the grace of a dancer while she dodged and slashed at her opponent. I looked to her sparring partner, a fair-haired man whose technique differed from hers. His attacks were made with a flourish, and his step had more of a spring to it. He glanced in our direction, and his attention strayed completely from the duel the moment his gaze met mine.

The warrior maiden seized the opportunity and disarmed him. Triumphant grin in place, she touched the tip of her sword to his throat. There was applause from the two men sitting on a nearby bench who'd been watching all the while.

"Do you yield?" the maiden said.

"I do yield if it means Thor introduces me to this fine young maiden," he replied, gracing me with the most charming of smiles.

The ebony-haired maiden rolled her eyes, but lowered her blade regardless.

"My friends," Thor hailed. The four of them gathered around us, each looking more different than the next. I rocked on my heels, clutching my shaking hands behind my back when I became subject to their scrutiny. "Meet Lady Eirlys, my mother's new apprentice. Eirlys, this is Lady Sif and the Warriors Three."

He introduced the three warriors by name: Fandral was the blond whose eyes sparkled as he looked upon me; the rotund, but undoubtedly sturdy man was Volstagg; and the silent, dark-haired fellow was named Hogun.

"Lady Eirlys, what a great pleasure it is to make your acquaintance." Fandral swooped forward to kiss my hand. "Your beauty has me at a loss for words."

"Oh, please," Lady Sif scoffed at him, though I noted the smile playing at her lips. She looked towards me as she smacked his hand away. "Pay him no mind, he has a habit of wounding hearts."

"Brother!" Thor said suddenly. "Come give greetings to Eirlys."

I started, only noticing Loki for the first time. Shrouded in the shadow of the palace, he sat, somewhat slouched, on the stone bench nearest to the door. With a disinterested eye, he glanced up from his book—the same he'd been reading the night before—and lifted a brow. "I have already met the Lady Eirlys," he said. "What more would you have of me?"

"A bit of kindness, perhaps?" Sif said.

"I don't think him capable," Fandral chuckled.

Loki looked away then, returning his attention to his book. Thor seemed to frown at his brother's discourtesy, but he said nothing of it. Instead, he made an announcement, "I have convinced my mother to host a feast in celebration of her new apprentice."

"A feast!" Volstagg cheered. "There is no finer way to welcome a newcomer to Asgard."

"I must admit, having a whole feast in my honour frightens me," I remarked. "I'm not one for... having much attention on me."

Fandral feigned shock. "You must receive plenty of attention, a beautiful maiden like you."

Sif shook her head at him before saying to me, "Do not fret. The court might not be the most hospitable gathering of Asgardians, but you have nothing to fear."

The warriors' unwavering good humour made me feel welcome, as Queen Frigga had anticipated. Even so, I felt a certain uneasiness in their company. With their raucous laughter and sometimes unmannerly tongue, they were very unlike the Vanir I'd known all my life. Though I may have been unaccustomed to their ways, I did not let it interfere with my enjoyment of the time spent with them.

As was promised, a feast of great honour was held two days hence. In the morning, the queen presented to me a pale pink dress; the cloth was gauzy and silken, the bodice intricately embroidered with golden thread. I'd been quite stunned by the gift. It was more beautiful than any dress I'd worn in Vanaheim. And yet it seemed a trifling matter to the queen. Exquisite gowns were in abundance in Asgard, so I surmised.

Just before the feast was to begin, I stood at the entrance of the banquet hall, fussing with the delicate fabric of my skirt. I could tell that the Einherjar guards flanking the door were watching me furtively. Probably thinking I was ill of mind. I must've been standing there for more than fifteen minutes, pacing to and fro every so often. At one point I almost walked inside, but I lost my courage.

"Are you planning on lingering out here for the rest of the evening?"

I whirled around to see Lady Sif. She joined me in front of the entrance, appearing far taller and prouder than I felt at that moment. "I was considering it," I remarked. Clearing my throat, I rubbed at both my arms. "It's strange... I have always been a member of the court in Vanaheim. Being my father's daughter, I was often paraded in front of all the lords and ladies. Now, I am mortified by the thought that all eyes will be on me."

Sif observed me quietly for a moment before turning so that we stood aligned, side by side. "Perhaps they will be," she said. "Perhaps they are curious about the maiden who garnered the queen's attention enough to become her apprentice. Perhaps they will ridicule you."

I furrowed my brow at her attempt to reassure me. "Ridicule? I'm beginning to believe staying out here might be a good idea after all."

She lowered her eyes, a faint smile touching her lips. "I was the subject of much ridicule when I dared become a warrior... and I still am. Do not let it cause you distress."

Her words somehow put me at ease. To know I did not stand alone soothed my anxieties. "Thank you, Lady Sif," I said, offering her a quavering smile in return. "Perhaps we can be the subjects of ridicule together?"

With a breath of laughter, she nodded for the guard to open the doors. "We shall."

We both strode forth and entered the hall, though I saw fit to remain a few paces behind Sif. All courtiers in the immediate vicinity looked upon us. Among them were a number of young maidens; several whispered to one another behind their hands, scrutiny wavering between Sif and me. I frowned and tried ignore them.

We reached the far end of the dining table, one large enough to seat a hundred people or more. The Warriors Three had already arrived: Hogun and Fandral shared drink amongst a group of laughing Aesir, while Vostagg spoke animatedly with a voluptuous copper-haired woman.

When Volstagg spotted me, he beamed and approached with the woman on his arm, intercepting me moments before Fandral could make his attempt. "Lady Eirlys, how lovely to see you," Volstagg said. "I'd like you to meet my wife, Hildegund."

I blinked in surprise just as I heard Fandral say in the distance, "Volstagg has a wife? I thought food was his only love!" His jape was followed by a shout of "ow!"—courtesy of Sif, no doubt.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," I said, pretending not to overhear Fandral and Sif's squabbling.

"I too hail from Vanaheim," Hildegund said. This knowledge seemed to relieve some of my remaining tension. "I was a member of the Vanir court long ago, when I was but a maiden. You are the daughter of Bjoran and Keldas, are you not?" I nodded in answer. "I recall seeing you last when you were small. Always so spirited and audacious."

A laugh almost bubbled up at the thought of my once unruly childhood. That rambunctious part of my life had been rather short-lived, and there wasn't much I remembered from that time. Nevertheless, I sifted through the memories I did retain. _Hildegund?_ I mused. _Hildegund... whose deep red hair I so admired_. Her hair was so rich and vibrant compared to mine. She'd often spent time with my mother and her courtiers, making music and embroidery and art. "Yes, I remember." My heart lifted as I recollected all sorts of details from my youth. "You always baked those wonderful chocolate cakes with the chocolate sauce inside."

"And she still does," Volstagg said affectionately.

Our reintroduction was cut short when the sea of courtiers parted without warning. Volstagg and Hildegund looked about in curiosity, and I mimicked them moments before spotting the sons of Odin. They were making their way through the crowd, Thor greeting all he passed while Loki said not a word. Behind them strode Frigga and, much to my alarm, the All-Father himself.

I brushed down the front of my dress and fiddled with a stray curl of my hair. I knew not what to expect from the All-Father, never having him seen him in person before. I hadn't heard much of his character, only that he was highly revered by all in the Nine Realms. As the king and queen neared, his single-eyed gaze fell upon me, his expression unreadable. The queen, however, beamed at me. I could not help responding in kind, immediately comforted by her gentle presence.

I gave a low curtsey. "All-Father, it is an honour."

"Lady Eirlys, I have heard much about you from my son and my wife," he said.

My eyes darted in Thor's direction. He stood close by alongside his brother, watching my interaction with the All-Father but attempting to feign otherwise. "Pleasant words, I hope," I remarked.

"But of course." He graced me with a kind smile. "You will learn much here. You are in good hands."

"How are you enjoying your time in the palace?" Frigga drew closer, taking my hands within her own. "I see you've been spending much time with my son and his friends."

"I have." I looked over to where they'd gathered now. They were basking in merriment as Volstagg recounted a story—most likely about food; he often spoke to me of his culinary adventures. "They have been most welcoming."

The queen patted my hands before letting go. "Good, that is very good to hear," she said. "Now, let us feast. I am quite famished."

With her lead, we took our places at the table. The All-Father was situated at the head, Thor to his right and Queen Frigga to his left. I took the seat beside the queen, Loki directly across from me. The prince had been mostly discourteous towards me since my arrival, and at my celebratory feast he remained so.

It fascinated me to observe the stark difference between him and his brother. Thor was boisterous with all he conversed, including his mother and father. He even made an effort to engage me in talk, which I was able to reciprocate with increasing ease. Throughout the feast, Loki offered me no words. But I saw the way he spoke in the company of his family: to the All-Father, he was conscientious and respectful; with his mother, he was warm.

When Loki fell into conversation with his brother, however, I saw a completely different side of him. He was much more amiable, lively even. For the first time in the three days since I'd met him, I actually saw him smile.

He chose that very moment to glance in my direction. Heart leaping to my throat, I instantly looked down at my plate and struck up a discussion with the queen about the lentils. She seemed oddly amused by the topic, which was admittedly not amusing at all. There was something about the look in her eye that told me she knew something I did not.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I acknowledge that these first few chapters have been sorta slow-going. Now that we've gotten all the introductions over with, stuff can finally start happening! And I feel like mentioning that I based some of the characterization on deleted scenes—whether or not they're canon, I'm not really sure, but I'm rolling with it anyway.

Some trivia: Volstagg doesn't have a wife in the movie-verse (at least, it's not mentioned), but he does have a wife in the comics.

Thank you all for the reviews, alerts, favs, etc.

Please take a moment to leave a review. Feedback is my fuel :)


	4. The Crystal Cavern

**FOUR**

* * *

_the crystal cavern_

* * *

Several weeks floated by in the wake of the welcoming feast. Much of my time was spent with the queen, soaking in her every word. When I was not in her company, I was with my books. More often than not, I would sit in the courtyard with Thor and his friends, typically with my head stuck in a tome. I noticed Loki would do the same, though he seemed to take more interest in the warriors' sparring than I. Sometimes he'd watch and comment on their performance, much to their evident irritation.

In my lessons, I had moved on from magical theory to begin studying herbology and practicing the brewing of potions. With less lecturing and more application, this allowed more cordial talk between Frigga and me as we prepared ingredients.

"Has Thor always been so spirited?" I asked one day, absentmindedly grinding up kingsleaf. "He is so full of life. I have seen no equal."

"Oh, yes, it was rather exhausting to keep after him when he was a child, even with the help of numerous nursemaids," Frigga said with a sigh. She took the kingsleaf from me and tossed it into the small cauldron hovering precariously above the flame. "But nothing was worse than the age when he was just big enough to wield a weapon. It was a miracle no one lost a limb."

I giggled at the mental image of a young Thor brandishing a sword twice his size. "Yes, I imagine there are few who can contend with his strength." Brushing off my hands, I pointed at the small tubers I'd cut up earlier. "Should we add the liferoot now?"

"Not until it starts boiling," she said. We watched as the half-complete concoction began to simmer. "Loki didn't need as much looking after as a child. He has always been unlike his brother. He's far more... reserved."

I smiled crookedly at the vast understatement. "Yes, I don't think he's said more than two words to me since I arrived."

"Do not worry," Frigga told me. "You've spent much time with his friends. I'm certain he will have more to say to you eventually."

I wasn't sure I wanted him to. We might have exchanged very few words since my arrival, but I was quite conscious of his aversion to me. _Perhaps we would both fare better if we never spoke again_, I thought wryly.

Once the potion began boiling, I dropped in the diced liferoot and watched the milky mixture turn clear. I grinned proudly, even as it started emitting a smell akin to fermented herring.

"Wonderfully done, much better than the last attempt." Frigga stirred the potion with a long-handled ladle. "It even smells as it should." We shared a warm laugh in spite of the putrid odour presently overwhelming us. "I believe that should be enough for the day. I shall see you on the morrow."

I nodded, eager to escape the potions lab, while the queen started to pack away the utensils, seemingly unbothered by the smell. All but running from the room, I called over my shoulder, "Good day to you, my lady."

Upon returning to my chambers, I was quick to change my attire. The dress I'd worn to my lessons still bore the smell of the potion we'd brewed. With a wrinkled nose, I stuffed it into the clothing hamper, burying it beneath my other garments.

Now smelling far fresher than before, I hummed an old tune and sauntered into my sitting chamber to arrange my bookshelves. All the books that Frigga had assigned to me yet remained in my possession; there were at least twenty now, most of them read and ready to be stowed away. I went about sorting them by subject, climbing up and down the wobbly wooden ladder to reach the upper shelves.

A knock interrupted my task, and I hurriedly descended to answer the call.

Fandral's dashing smile was there to greet me. "Ah, Eirlys. A fine afternoon, is it not?"

"Yes, good afternoon," I said, beaming in return. "How might I be of service?"

"Would you like to go to Alfheim?" he asked.

I blinked before an incredulous laugh escaped my lips. "All the way to Alfheim? When? Right now?"

Fandral shrugged and tilted his head. "We often travel to other worlds," he told me. "We've had many adventures in all the realms... except Helheim, of course. And Jotunheim, never been there either." He grinned. "In Midgard, the mortals regard us gods. Actual gods!"

I found myself sharing in his delight. There seemed little reason for me to decline. After the first two weeks, I was able to read my texts at a steady pace, and the burden of my studies had been somewhat lifted. A day in the company of new friends would not be disagreeable. "I have wished to see the wonders of the Nine Realms all my life," I replied. "Nothing would make me happier than to accompany you to Alfheim."

If at all possible, his grin grew wider. "There's a rumour about a cavern in Alfheim," Fandral enthused. "In this cavern, there are these crystals. Beautiful crystals of all sorts of colours that glow in the darkness. They may even have magical properties."

I raised a brow. "And who else will be joining us?"

"The usual company," Fandral said. "Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three."

"Loki? Truly?"

"Yes, we need someone proficient in magic." His eyes widened. "Not that you aren't proficient in magic."

"You can say that on the day that I am proficient in magic," I assured him. He chuckled, his demeanour instantly relieved of tension. Curiosity struck me then, and I simply could not resist posing an enquiry. "Tell me, Fandral. What are your thoughts on Loki?"

There was a moment of hesitation. "Well, I'm not precisely... fond of the fellow," he admitted. "Still, I'm not averse to his company. I respect him, and I know well enough not to cross him."

"He does not seem too fond of me."

"Oh, that's just his manner," Fandral remarked. "He takes a bit of getting used to."

The thought that I would have to further contend with Loki's unfriendly conduct bothered me. Even so, knowing that I was not the only one who did brought me a sliver of comfort. "It is no major concern." I slipped through the doorway. "Shall we?"

"We shall," he said. "We will be riding. I hope you don't mind."

"On the contrary, I love to ride." However, I did regret being unable to don the riding breeches I'd requested to be tailored. It seemed I had no choice but to suffer riding in a dress that was not meant to be ridden in. But I wouldn't let it dampen my excitement. "Truly, it is the only time I feel free. With the wind in my hair, the endless plains racing by. It's an adventure in itself, and there is nothing I love more."

He beamed at me. "We are truly kindred spirits. Let us depart this instant."

Arm in arm, we walked to the entrance hall where we were to meet his friends. Fandral spoke avidly of Alfheim and its beauty. _Enchanting_, he called it, and I found my interest piqued; I knew little of Alfheim other than the fact that it was home to the Light Elves. He told me he wished to gather several crystals from this mysterious cavern—not for himself, but to present as gifts to the next few maidens he intended to woo.

"Eirlys, I am overjoyed you decided to accompany us!" Thor said the moment we reached the entrance hall.

The rest of them smiled in greeting. Save Loki, of course. His impassive features made no change whatsoever.

"I must admit, I am glad to no longer be the only maiden," Sif said, striding in tandem with me as we made our way towards the palace entrance. "It can be difficult to keep company with this lot."

I stifled a giggle. "From what the queen has told me, I imagine it must be exhausting."

"Oh, you have no idea."

Just outside the entrance hall stood seven steeds. The horses belonged to one of our party each, and I found myself longing for Winifred, my ever faithful mount.

"I have borrowed one of my mother's mares," Thor said, guiding me towards a honey-coloured horse. "Her name is Astrild."

I gently ran a hand down the mare's neck, admiring her shiny coat. "Greetings, Astrild." She snorted softly in response. "You are a true beauty." I glimpsed Thor's amusement while he turned to mount the white stallion waiting beside her.

Sitting astride the mare proved to be near impossible, even with the leeway my free flowing dress provided me. As I struggled to seat myself in the saddle, I sensed Fandral was on the verge of rushing forward to offer me aid, but I had both feet in the stirrups before he could. I was never one for riding sidesaddle; I'd been taught to ride by my father's guards, and riding sidesaddle was obviously not one of their strengths. Glancing in Sif's direction, I found myself envious of her armour vestments and trousers.

With words of cheer, Thor led the charge down the road and onto the Rainbow Bridge. I relished the gale caressing my skin and the effervescent glow of the bridge before us. This was freedom to me: to ride unattended at speeds surpassing that which was considered sound and sensible. The bridge's gates opened before us with no prompting, and our momentum did not falter.

When we arrived beneath the starry sky, we slowed to a trot and entered the observatory one at a time. Standing at the summit of the circular steps, Heimdall appeared unfazed as we surrounded him with our seven steeds. I came to a halt in front the opening and peered out at the endless dark. There was but a void. Black and endless. It made my blood run cold.

"Off to Alfheim, I see?" Heimdall's voice reverberated in the golden dome.

"Indeed we are," Thor replied. He grinned up at the formidable gatekeeper like an old friend. "Father has approved of this venture."

"I already know," Heimdall said. His sharp gaze surveyed each of us, lingering on me a moment longer than the rest. "The sunset in Alfheim is lovely this time of the year. Perhaps you will stay until then?"

"Perhaps we shall," Thor said.

And with that, the guardian of the Bifrost slid his sword into the pedestal. Branches of illumination—like lightning—shot from the column and danced along the walls. The observatory rattled and hummed as the circular opening began to swirl and glow, the golden structure spinning above our heads.

I glanced at my companions, all of whom looked upon the opening gateway with nothing more than mild interest. I, on the other hand, took to staring. My hands tightened around Astrild's reins, trembling ever so slightly. Travelling by the Bifrost wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, but the thought of venturing into Alfheim to seek out a magical crystal cave filled me with greater anticipation. I wouldn't miss this opportunity for anything.

Heimdall left us with two parting words: "Safe journey."

Then I felt the tug of the Bifrost and was flung forward. Light and sound streaked by like shooting stars and roaring winds. Before long, I saw Alfheim ahead of me, a sphere of green and blue. It drew closer and closer, as though it were growing rapidly below me. Seconds after I took it all in, I landed upon solid ground.

I was not as disoriented as I had been the first time I travelled by Bifrost, much to my relief. Even better, I was firmly astride Astrild, therefore I could not embarrass myself by losing my balance and teetering forward.

Sif had landed to my left with a huff. "I've never been fond of travelling by the Bifrost," she said to me, rubbing down her arms. "Sometimes it feels like you're falling into an abyss."

"All present and accounted for?" Volstagg asked, giving the group a cursory once-over. Satisfied, he nodded and turned to Loki. "Where are we headed?"

Loki procured a small piece of parchment from his saddlebag. He eyed it silently for a mere moment before motioning in the direction of the rising sun. "This way," he said gruffly. He acted as our guide, Thor moving to ride beside him.

I gave Sif a look, my brow furrowed. Hogun seemed to take notice. "Loki does not trust anyone else with directions," he said.

We rode two by two, though our uneven numbers forced Volstagg to take up the rear by his lonesome. The lands of Alfheim were made of rolling hills teeming with luscious green grass; it reminded me of home. Wildflowers grew, scattered across the greenery. Their colours were varied and vibrant, and I made sure to avoid trampling them. Alongside me, Sif appeared to be taking in the sights with an equally appreciative eye.

Within an hour, our company came to a dirt road, which we were eager to trod. We often crossed paths with the residents of Alfheim—Light Elves who offered us kind greetings. They looked much like the Aesir, save for their pointed ears and vibrant blue eyes. I recalled my father telling me about the Light Elves' quarrel with Lord Frey; an oddity, since they seemed like such friendly folk.

"How much farther do we have to go?" Fandral yelled ahead to where Loki and Thor were leading the way.

"There is no exact location," Loki said, "since we are travelling based on rumour alone."

Our party rode onward, growing more impatient by the minute. I was able to enjoy the view and the mild weather, but I could tell everyone else had been here before. No one else was as fascinated by the lands as I. Fandral and Thor seemed especially restless, judging by the way they kept twirling whatever weapons they happened to bring with them. Fandral had a startling number of knives on his person.

Volstagg came riding up beside me with a cheery smile. "Lady Eirlys, would you like to be regaled with a tale of bravery and adventure?"

His merriment seemed infectious, and I responded with high spirits, "Good Volstagg, I would love nothing more."

"Shall we tell her about our journey into Nornheim?" Fandral said, appearing on Volstagg's opposite side. "Or perhaps the time we went hunting for bilgesnipe."

"You went hunting for bilgesnipe?" I said incredulously.

"A deep regret, I assure you," Thor called over his shoulder.

"Yes, awful scaly creatures with antlers the size of trees," Fandral remarked. "They smell like rotten eggs too. Have you ever seen one?"

I shook my head. "Only in drawings."

"You should consider yourself fortunate," Volstagg said. "None of us were in our right minds when we allowed Thor to convince us to travel all the way to Gymirsgard to see if we could best a bilgesnipe."

"Unfortunately, we didn't seem to consider that they travelled in packs," Sif added. Thor glanced behind, the corners of his eyes crinkling. I noticed Loki shaking his head beside him.

"Of course, that didn't deter us," Fandral chuckled. "Sif was the only one who stayed back, hiding amongst the trees."

Sif let out a chuff of laughter. "By that he means I was the only one thinking coherently that day."

"No arguments there," Volstagg chortled. "Now, Thor was eager to fell one of the beasts all on his own. Wanted to mount the head right above his fireplace."

"Thor ran straight at them with a mighty roar," Fandral said, raising his fist in what I assumed was an imitation, "and he was instantly trampled. Stomped right into the ground."

I gaped. "Oh no."

Fandral and Volstagg, on the other hand, laughed raucously. "In our attempt to come to his aid, we were thoroughly trampled too," Volstagg said.

"So no bilgesnipe was felled that day?" I said, looking from Volstagg to Thor and back again.

"Oh, only one bilgesnipe was felled," Thor said, turning in his saddle. "Loki, with all his cleverness and his tricks, managed to corner and slay the repulsive beast that trampled me."

"It was quite impressive," Volstagg remarked. "I would even say magnificent if Loki hadn't been covered from head to toe in bilgesnipe blood." He attempted to smother a laugh, but failed miserably. "He smelled like a bilgesnipe for an entire week, you couldn't even go near him."

Everyone dissolved into laughter then. Even I joined in, laughing until my sides ached. I caught Loki glancing behind, while his brother guffawed. Although he wasn't quite as amused as the rest of us, I saw the corner of his mouth lift in the smallest of smiles.

We continued our way through the Alfheim countryside. Volstagg and Fandral spoke further of their many other adventures in Nornheim, Midgard, and even—to my surprise—Vanaheim on occasion. Their tales, matched with the manner in which they told them, made me laugh more than I ever had in my entire life.

Our path seemed directionless at first, but Loki conducted us steadily, clearly having a better idea of our destination than when we initially arrived. As we began descending rocky hills, heading deeper into a valley, I knew we were nearing our goal.

"This better be the right place," Fandral muttered. When his chestnut steed stumbled on the increasingly slippery rocks, he frantically tugged on the reins and came to a halt beside me. "I think we should stop. Leave our horses here."

"Agreed," Loki said. He was the first to dismount, his movements hasty and graceful.

My struggle to dismount was not nearly as elegant, to say the least. Hours of riding had taken their toll on my legs, my muscles sore and the skin of my thighs chafed. Thor was quick to come to my aid, grasping my waist delicately to help me from Astrild's saddle. "Oh! Thank you, Thor." I inwardly cursed myself for the heat sprouting on my cheeks.

Loki was off, tearing down the valley before I was standing upright on my own two feet. Thor gave me a brief smile and followed after his brother, shouting, "Brother, wait! We will be lost without you!"

With the confines of my dress, keeping my footing on the downward slope was unnecessarily difficult. This time Fandral came to my rescue, grabbing my hand before I could slip and fall backwards like a complete imbecile. I gave him a chagrinned look. "I'm not normally this clumsy," I promised him. "Dresses are clearly not made for adventuring."

"Well." Fandral grinned. "I'm not complaining."

Upon reaching the bottom of the increasingly narrow valley, we were met with a cave. Stalactites and stalagmites stood guard at its entrance, giving it a far more ominous appearance than it would've had otherwise. From our view, the inside of the cave was pitch-black, not unlike the very abyss I'd stared into at the edge of the Bifrost earlier that day.

At the fore, Thor and Fandral drew torches from their packs, swiftly igniting them and striding inside without a word. Loki was on their heels, conjuring a bright sphere of magic in the palm of his hand. My eyes grew wide at the sight, never having seen him wield magic before. It took some gentle prompting from Hogun to get me moving again.

Sif remained next to me as we entered the cave, her arm occasionally brushing mine every time she glanced up and down the passage. Her proximity made me jump at first, but I soon found her nearby presence reassuring. On either side of us, stone structures cast frightening shadows like monsters in the dark. Loki lifted his hand, the blue-green light of his magic driving them away.

We ventured deeper into the cave—a tunnel, more like—and the air grew colder. No one spoke. I was under the impression that my companions feared what could be lurking in the dark, even if the possibility was never considered before. Further and further we sank into the gloom until we discovered a faint light emanating from below.

"There! There it is," Fandral said. He hurried forward, and we followed suit.

After several yards, we ducked beneath a row of low hanging stalactites before coming to a standstill. We found ourselves in the heart of an underground chamber. My mouth fell open as I looked above, below, to the sides. Everywhere, the entire cavern, was covered with crystals of all different colours, each of them glowing brightly like stars in the night sky. Fandral and Thor extinguished their torches, and Loki let his light dissipate. So bright the crystals were, we could see everything as though we were standing in the sun.

"This is marvellous," Fandral exclaimed. He spread his arms, laughing at the sight before us. He approached the closest cluster of crystals. They lit up the side of his face in a glaring shade of blue. The rest of our party dispersed to admire the various colours of crystals.

I moved to join Fandral, reaching out to touch the smooth sides of the crystal. My brow dipped when I felt the faint tingle of magic being drawn from my fingers.

Loki appeared beside me. "There is magic in these crystals," he commented to no one in particular.

Moving my fingers away from the crystalline rock, I nodded absently. "I feel it too," I said. "It feels like it's emanating power... yet absorbing it at the same time."

Loki met my gaze then, his eyes appearing bright blue in the light of the crystal before us. The dip of his brow disappeared as quickly as it came. "Yes, it must be channeling magic."

We glanced away from one another, and my attention was instantly captured by the deep green crystals a short distance away. It seemed to catch his eye too. With his long legs, he made his way over to them in a few short strides. Similarly intrigued, I scurried after him, and we observed the green formation together.

"The green ones," I murmured, "they feel—"

"More powerful." Loki nodded. "This cluster is larger. It must be older than the others."

Utilizing one of his daggers, he cut a chunk of the green crystal free. The others of our group and I used a chisel and a hammer to take crystals of our choosing. I took but a sliver of a crystal, one of rich purple. Fandral obtained handfuls of various colours for the large number of maidens he vowed he was going to pursue.

New spoils in hand, we took our leave from the cavern as swiftly as possible. The tunnels seemed less daunting with our crystals glimmering and lighting the way. Once we exited the cave, climbing out of the valley proved just as challenging as climbing down it was, but I managed to reach Astrild unscathed.

We rode back towards the Bifrost site just as the sun began its journey towards the skyline. Now that we knew the way, we were able to travel across the grassy plains at greater speeds. The sky began to darken by the time we reached the cliffside where Heimdall would call us home. With mere words, he could've taken us to Asgard in an instant. But the view from the precipice was so captivating that none of us had the heart to leave it.

The sun dipped into the horizon, beyond the deep ocean waters. It illuminated the sky in an array of colours: orange and hot pink melting into purple and dark blue. I had always adored the sunsets on Vanaheim, but this was a true sight to behold.

"So, how did you enjoy our little adventure?" Sif asked, her features bathed in the burning glow of the setting sun.

"I think we're going to have to do this more often," I said.

Her eyes gleamed in the light, and she gazed upon the fine view once more. As I sat there, staring across the ocean of colour, I realized I'd never felt so content before. For the first time in my many years, I knew exactly where I wanted to be.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to my guest reviewer! Your comments were very heartening.

Some trivia: The bilgesnipe story was a reference to a line Thor had in the Avengers. He mentions the bilgesnipe to Coulson and describes them with "huge, scaly, big antlers."

If you're reading, I would really love to hear from you! Please leave a comment/review :)


	5. Mischief Managed

**FIVE**

* * *

_mischief managed_

* * *

My studies under Frigga's tutelage carried on for weeks, the pace brisk and the work arduous. Much to my chagrin, I had difficulty keeping up with my readings as I had intended. The massive tomes were piling up on the desk in my sitting chamber; at times I feared it would topple over—or worse, it would break the desk. In jest, I laid the blame on Thor and his friends, as I had been spending every spare second of my days with them.

It became a habit. I would bring my texts to the courtyard, curl up on a bench or in the grass, and read while they practiced. Oftentimes, Loki would do the same, sitting nearby with one of his books. He hadn't said much of anything to me since our trip to Alfheim, but his manner seemed far less cold. Once and a while, he too would join the sparring, leaving me to watch with avid fascination.

Just as Thor and Loki were opposites in appearance, their fighting styles were equally dissimilar. Wielding a maul, Thor used all his strength and size to his advantage. Loki was all fluid grace, a silver staff his weapon of choice. He employed tricks and deception to make up for the disparity in strength. The two brothers taunted one another, laughing as they fought. There was something about sparring together that brought them such joy.

One day came when the courtyard sat in a peculiar quietude. None in our company was in the mood for sparring, thus Fandral brought with him a number of straw targets. I sat close by, pushing my book aside after having finished its final chapter. It was rare to see Fandral handle a bow and arrow despite the fact that he was renowned for being one of the best marksmen in Asgard.

In the blink of an eye, he swiped an arrow from his quiver and loosed it. And then another. And another. With each heavy thud, an arrow was embedded in the centre of its target. He did this over and over, the final arrow splitting another in half. I applauded, inadvertently disrupting the focus of everyone else in the yard.

"Fandral the Dashing, you are as skilled with a bow as you are with a sword," I said, crossing the yard to admire his handiwork up close. Glancing back at him, I matched his charming smile.

He chuckled before looking down at his bow. "Indeed, I am skilled in many pursuits." Then he held it out to me. "Perhaps you would like a lesson in archery?"

I raised a brow, sensing that everyone's eyes were on us now. Loki sent a particularly sharp glare in our direction—likely because I'd shattered his concentration. Clearing my throat, I gently grasped the bow. "I would be honoured to be your student."

Fandral stood me in front of the closest target, carefully squaring my shoulders. "Alright, hold the bow with your left hand, you'll want to pull the string with your right."

I stiffened and felt my cheeks warm when he positioned himself behind me, his chest almost touching my back. He moved my hands with his own, lowering the bow so that I could nock an arrow. "Are you sure I should be shooting an arrow already?" I questioned.

"Do not fret, I shall guide you," he said.

I pursed my lips to refrain from further questioning the wisdom of this decision. He lifted my arm so that it was held straight before me, exactly parallel to the ground. "Alright, you will want to hit the centre," he said, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the obviousness of the statement. "Pull the string as hard as you can."

Taking in a breath, I did as he instructed and pulled back the arrow. Then I let it fly. And it flew high, soaring way above the target, hitting the palace wall with a clatter before coming to a rest in the grass. I stepped out Fandral's arms and turned to face him. After a moment, we both burst out laughing, hands clutching at ours sides.

Only when our laughter died down did I notice Queen Frigga standing with Thor and Loki by the courtyard gate. She must have arrived during my demonstration. My rather embarrassing demonstration. I was secretly thankful that their attention had been diverted from my silly failure.

I gave Fandral a spirited curtsey. "You have my thanks, but I think perhaps archery is not for me." He chuckled while I hurried to seize my book and made my way towards the queen and her sons.

She was the first to notice my approach. "Eirlys, why are you not reading?" Frigga chided. Her eyes sparkled with good humour. "Last I saw, you had ten books waiting to be read by next month."

"I thought I'd try my hand at archery," I said, catching Thor's jovial gaze. "Clearly, I should never touch a bow again."

Frigga reached out to take my hand. "That is because your talent lies elsewhere, my dear."

Her words warmed my heart, and I appreciated her comforting touch. It was moments like this that made me eternally grateful for being her apprentice. She was my teacher, my mentor, and she looked after me. I'd had my fair share of teachers over the years, but none had treated me with such care. It was not just magic that I learned from Frigga. She was the example I was to live by.

"I found a beautiful glass case to store the crystal you gifted to me," Frigga told me. Thor and Loki looked round at me in surprise. The purple crystal from Alfheim was meant to show my gratitude. "I think it will look splendid above my fireplace."

I inclined my head. "I imagine there would be no finer place for it."

When my hand slid from hers, I caught sight of the look Loki gave me, the unmistakable downturn of his mouth. I met his gaze—or tried to, seeing as he glanced away the moment I did.

"Eirlys has been reading dutifully in the courtyard every day," Thor said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. Luckily, I'd braced myself for it. The last time he had clapped me on the shoulder, I nearly collapsed. "Mother, you would not chastise her if she does not read for the remainder of this day?"

"Of course not."

"Why?" I glanced between Frigga and Thor curiously. "What have you planned, Thor Odinson?"

Without warning, he swept me off my feet and flung me over his shoulder. "We have a lake to attend to," Thor declared. "The day is warm, and Eirlys needs to cool off. My friends! Let us make haste before it grows dark."

So stunned I was by the sudden manhandling that it took me several moments to gather my wits. "You silly oaf, put me down!" I said, though my laughter ultimately could not be contained.

He swung me about and carried me from the courtyard with the rest of our company in tow. They all laughed, save for Sif who merely shook her head with amusement, and Loki whose surly expression only deepened.

* * *

I returned to my chambers in the late hours of the night, my dress soaked through, my hair dripping wet. Our time at the lake was filled with laughter and frolicking. Before I'd even dismounted my mare, Thor pulled me from my saddle and tossed me in, right beneath the waterfall. We'd taken turns leaping into the water to see who could make the largest splash; of course it was no contest with Volstagg present. Hogun and Loki had chosen not to participate, though Hogun had looked on with clear gaiety.

After eagerly changing into my nightgown, I padded onto the balcony to squeeze the water from my hair. Exhaling gently, I surveyed the garden below, admiring the serene swinging of the willow tree's branches.

An unexpected squawk made me jump backwards, and I nearly hit the glass door with my shoulder. At the opposite end of the balcony, a crow had landed. It peered up at me with beady black eyes, head tilting back and forth. As we stared at one another, it let out another grating croak.

"Leave me be," I murmured, shooing the bird away with my hands.

It took off and fluttered away. Watching it soar, I wondered where it could've come from. As far as I knew, there were no crows in the city, let alone on Asgard. The only birds within the vicinity of the palace were Odin's ravens. They were larger than crows, with feathers that shone a deep, almost imperceptible blue. That bird was definitely not one of Odin's ravens.

The moment of puzzlement faded, and I turned to dry my hair by the fireplace before smothering the flames. Rubbing the tense muscles of my neck, I clambered into bed and settled in with a tired huff. In the comfort of my silken sheets, sleep came to me quickly.

But it did not stay.

The unpleasant caw of a crow brought me back to consciousness. I sat upright, blinking in the dark. The second call had me clumsily untangling myself from the bedclothes. I had left the balcony door open, for my room had been too warm, and I did not expect the crow to return.

To my dismay, it had indeed made its reappearance and now stood atop the balustrade. It stared at me as I stumbled across the bedchamber. A breath or two passed before it let out another irritating cry.

I sighed, waving my hand in its direction. "Shoo, get out of here."

It gave one last screech before departing.

My shoulders sagged, and I closed the balcony door, knowing full well that it would become very muggy in my bedchamber. Regardless, I was unwilling to risk being reawakened by maddening outside noises again. I shuffled back to bed, nearly tripping on the steps on my way up, and curled up atop the sheets to find sleep once more.

As if I were cursed, the crow came back. And this time it was not alone.

A series of squawks roused me from my slumber for the second time that night. Rising from my bed turned out to be far more difficult than it had been earlier. In my addled state, I shambled over to the balcony, muttering all the while, "Odin's beard, I can't believe this."

I threw open the doors and flailed my arms. "Get out of here!" The crows—five of them, I counted—scattered into the air, cawing all the while.

I let out a breath, only mildly relieved at the sound of silence. With a groan, I ran a hand over my face and closed the balcony door. Flopping onto my bed, I pulled a pillow over my head. Yet sleep remained just out of reach. For what felt like hours, I tossed and turned. Slowly—very slowly—weariness overwhelmed me, and I fell into a slumber one final time.

The morning arrived faster than I wished it would've. Light shone through my balcony window, serving as the newest source of my awakening. I grumbled and rolled over, snuggling deeper into my pillow. Then my eyes flew open. Never had the morning light awoken me; I was always up and at my lessons before it could.

I was late.

Practically falling out of bed, I hurried to dress, not bothering to brush my tangled hair, before running out of my chambers to reach my morning lesson. In my whole life, I had never been late to anything. _Better than punctual_, my father always said. But here I was, staggering into the library, late for my lesson.

Frigga stood by our usual table, eyeing me reproachfully when I came to a halt before her. "I... I am most apologetic, my lady," I stammered. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"Did you spend too much time playing down by the lake last night?" Frigga said.

In truth, we did leave the lake at a very late hour. I knew blaming my lateness on a murder of crows would not convince her otherwise. "Yes." I bowed my head. "It will not happen again, I vow to you."

We carried on with the lesson thereafter. But I couldn't forget the look of disappointment she bestowed upon me.

Later that day, I nestled into my bedcovers and propped one of my texts against my knees. It was relatively early in the evening; I'd only just finished supping with Thor and his friends, but I saw fit to retire as soon as possible. Since I had such little sleep the night prior, I hoped to make up for it once I finished my book.

I scanned the words as quickly as I could, though my sleep-deprived mind had a difficult time keeping pace. I found myself yawning and profusely blinking back the sleepy tears, which only made it even more difficult to see.

As I neared the end of the chapter, I swore I heard a hiss. I frowned, glancing towards the door and then the empty fireplace. I had lit no fire this night. The hiss sounded again. I looked to my left and to my right, even leaning over to scrutinize the fur rugs beneath my bed. That's when I felt something brush against my ankle.

I threw my bedclothes aside and screamed. Scrambling out of bed, I stared, wide eyed, at the grey-scaled snake slithering towards my pillow. It was a jorgandr, a snake indigenous to Nidavellir and extremely poisonous—newly born, judging by its size. These facts raced through my mind, while I went careening through my sitting chamber.

Yanking open the door, I walked straight into a very firm chest. With a squeak, I lurched backwards, only to sigh in relief when I realized it was Thor.

"Eirlys, are you alright?" He glanced about my chambers with a furrowed brow. "I thought I heard you scream. Were you running for the door?"

"Yes!" I pointed in the direction of my bedchamber. "There is a snake in my room! A very deadly one."

He exchanged looks with the Einherjar stationed by my door. After imparting a nod, he strode in, the two guards in tow. I followed, shaky on my feet. I lingered in the threshold of my bedchamber, my heart thudding painfully as they tossed aside all my bedsheets. They searched beneath the bed and every possible crevice the snake might've gone into. There was no sign of it.

"We have been unable to find it," Thor said, gently leading me by the arm into the sitting chamber while the guards examined the room a second time. "Are you sure of what you saw?"

I averted my eyes as if hoping to find the answer lying on the ground. "I swear I heard it... I felt it," I whispered. Then I shook my head frantically. "Perhaps I dreamt it... or—or imagined it." He gave me the most curious look, and I felt ashamed for disturbing him and dousing him with my prattle. "I apologize for frightening you so, Thor."

"Do not fret, we all have bad dreams," he assured me, his hands comforting on my shoulders.

The guards stepped from my bedchamber, both of them shaking their heads. "Thank you," I said. My cheeks burned as I watched them march out of my chambers to return to their posts.

I walked Thor out as well. In the doorway, he paused and turned to me with a consoling smile. "Sleep well. I wish you pleasant dreams. Better dreams, at the least."

After a moment's pause, I returned his smile. "And you."

With that, he headed back to his chambers. I dawdled in the doorway and couldn't help but notice Loki peering out his room from across the corridor. The instant my gaze found his, he slunk back inside and closed the door. Scowling in the direction of the icy prince, I shut my own door and went back to my bedchamber.

The bedclothes had been piled haphazardly at the foot of my bed, revealing no snake or anything resembling a snake. Even then, my fear did not subside. I stood stock-still and recalled the healers telling me how jorgandr bites were untreatable. One full bite administered enough poison to kill the victim in a matter of minutes or less. Typically it was newborn jorgandrs that killed with their poisonous bites. A fully grown jorgandr would just eat their prey whole.

I grabbed my book and hastened into the sitting chamber, depositing myself on the cushioned window seat. Quivering, I pulled my legs close to my chest and read in the little light the moons provided me. Every few minutes, I would glance in the direction of my bedchamber, thoroughly paranoid that the jorgandr snake would come slithering out and attack me at any second.

I dozed throughout the night, but I did not sleep.

When sunlight began pouring across Asgard, I was already up and readying myself for the day. Although I managed to attend my lessons with punctuality, I was beyond exhausted. From the pointed looks Frigga kept giving me, I realized that I must've been drowsing throughout her lecture. For weeks, I had listened to her with rapt attention until this day.

Upon venturing back into my bedchamber that evening, I inspected the entire room for any sign of the snake. There was nothing to indicate that it had ever been there in the first place. Twenty minutes of searching later, I was assured that the snake was either gone or a mere figment of my imagination.

I dressed in my nightgown, even before the darkness of night fell upon Asgard. The moment I collapsed in my bed, my eyes drifted shut and much needed sleep descended upon me.

* * *

_There are voices. Two men, both familiar, yet unrecognizable. They talk. They shout. They plead. It's suddenly bright, an explosion blooming in the darkness. The anguish, the disappointment, it burns more than any flame could. Then he's falling. Falling into the deep, dark abyss. With nothing to break his fall._

I awoke with a jolt. My chest ached with a strange, nameless pang as I panted rapidly, unable to catch my breath. Shutting my eyes, I let out a small sob and ran my quaking hands through my hair. The nightmare felt so bizarre, so surreal, yet somehow real all at once. I could not comprehend it.

With a heavy drag of air, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and picked my way down the steps. The sound of blood rushing in my ears was loud once I sagged into the chair at my vanity table. Plucking up the jug sitting atop the surface, I poured water into a glass tumbler. When I set the jug back down, I caught sight of my reflection and recoiled. I looked like the risen dead, my pallor white as parchment. Perhaps even a little grey. Dark circles took up residence beneath my eyes, purple and blue.

Drinking in large gulps, I glanced out the window to see that the day was dawning. I sighed and buried my face in my hands. Though I'd slept through the night, I had not shaken the weariness. The strange nightmare seemed to drain me until it felt like I hadn't slept at all for the second night in a row. Third, if I included the night of the crows.

A knock sounded at my chamber door, startling me out of my reverie. Letting out a long breath, I grasped the edges of my vanity table and shakily rose to my feet.

I managed to reach the door following the second knock. Upon prying it open, I peeked through to see an Einherjar guard standing before me, fist poised to knock once more. "Yes?" I asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course." The guard nodded. "The queen has informed me that your day's lesson has been cancelled. She has been asked to attend to an urgent matter."

I gave him as grateful a smile I could muster. "Thank you."

He responded with a short bow before turning on his heel and marching away. I closed the door and meandered back to my bedchamber. In the serenity of the early morn, I climbed back into bed where I waited for sleep to take me.

But sleep did not come as I hoped.

The dream... the nightmare haunted me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the abyss. The endless dark. I could feel myself falling into it, despite my knowing it was not me in the dream. I was feeling what someone else was feeling; the anguish and despair felt as real as my own emotions.

So I lay there. And I patiently waited for the dream to fade from my memory. An hour might have passed, but the terrible sensation never left me.

I jerked when someone knocked at my door. Two callers already and it was not yet midday. I frowned and slowly sat in bed. "Enter!"

My sitting chamber door opened to reveal Queen Frigga, dressed as though she was ready for the day's lesson. The second I realized the queen was in my chambers, I leapt out of bed and unsuccessfully attempted to make myself look presentable. An impossible feat, given my rumpled nightgown and horribly unkempt hair.

"Eirlys, is something the matter?" she asked, striding into my bedchamber.

I shook my head. "What do you mean?"

"You never came to your lesson." Frigga frowned. "Are you ill?"

"What?" My voice cracked. "A guard told me my lessons were cancelled for the day." I slumped heavily on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the floor. "He said you had an urgent matter to attend to. That is why I have been here the entire time."

Her expression softened as she looked down at me. "Which guard was it?"

"I know not. I did not recognize him." Much to my embarrassment, I sniffed slightly, tears prickling at my eyes. "I apologize for my lack of decorum, my lady. I have not been sleeping these past three days. I understand if you are unhappy with... with my efforts."

"I am not upset." Frigga sat beside me on my bed. I glanced over at her curiously. "I have been worried about you, not upset with you. Until these past few days, you have been an admirable student. That's why I realized something was amiss."

"All of these things have been keeping me up at night," I said forlornly. Then it all just came pouring out, and I was rambling like a madwoman, "First it was the crows—and I know there aren't any crows in Asgard, but I swear they were crows—they kept cawing from my balcony. They didn't let me rest for more than a few hours at a time. Then it was the snake the next evening, a jorgandr, I thought, but Thor and the guards couldn't find anything. I was so terrified that it would come back in the middle of the night that I didn't sleep at all. And last night, I had this awful nightmare... and it just feels like I'm falling into the void and now I can't sleep even though I'm more exhausted than I ever thought possible. It feels like I'm seeing things, hearing things that aren't really there."

Frigga was completely silent the moment I ceased blathering. Her brow furrowed—in contemplation or disconcertion, I was not sure. "Something strange has been transpiring here," she offered at last. "Perhaps some trickster has been unkind to you these past few nights."

"You think someone has been doing this to me?"

"It is entirely possible," she said. "But it is no matter." I blinked at her sudden dismissal of the notion. There was something she was not telling me. "You shall have the next three days free from your lessons. You are unwell and you need to rest."

I nodded absently. "Thank you, my lady."

"Do not worry yourself," she said, touching my cheek. "Just rest." She stood and made her way across the room. "I shall see myself out."

As she left, I could not muster a reply. I was too preoccupied with what she had remarked upon, the suggestion that she let fall with great haste. _A trickster?_ I pondered. _Of course, a trickster_.

I groaned and threw myself back onto my bed. It was so obvious that I wanted to laugh. There was only one trickster capable of such illusions. And it was quite clear that he had a less than favourable opinion of me.

I recalled the look he gave me in the corridor after I saw the jorgandr. His features had been impassive—indeed, he was completely unconcerned, yet he came out to see regardless. He wanted to witness the results of his handiwork.

Growling, I sprang to my feet and went straight to my wardrobe. I was not well practiced in the art of conflict. I avoided confrontations with a passion. The only disagreements I'd ever had were with the other maidens in the Vanir court. But those were rare occurrences; they had a habit of deferring to me because my family was considered to be of a higher standing. On this day, my temper had reached its end. On this day, I would make an exception. I knew I had to do something now, otherwise he would never stop.

Once dressed, I went into the corridor and stood before one of the Einherjar guards posted at my door. "Have you seen Prince Loki?"

The guard blinked, apparently bemused by the question. "He left his chambers earlier. Likely gone to the library."

"Thank you." I spoke more brusquely than what was considered courteous, but my blood was boiling, and my mind was addled from a lack of sleep.

Turning from the guard, I began my march towards the library.

When I entered the place of quiet study, the only sound heard was the turning of a page. I could tell there was just one person in the library. The aisles were devoid of life, which was no surprise; there weren't many in the court who saw the value of written knowledge. Even fewer were those who would be willing to engross themselves in books so early in the morning.

I ducked out from the confines of the shelves, glancing about before spotting him. He sat four tables away. Even when doing something as leisurely as reading, he was clad in his usual leather and metal attire. Slouched in his seat, he appeared comfortable and relaxed. He had one arm outstretched on the table, holding his book upright.

He paid me no mind, regardless of my approach. His lack of regard instilled such anger in me. Anger I did not think myself capable of. "Loki, I would have words with you." I came to a stop right beside him.

He actually had the gall to sigh. "Please, say what you will," he replied, barely even glancing in my direction. He continued reading his book as if I wasn't even there.

I felt my ire rise even further, if at all possible. Without thinking, I wrested the book from his hand, shut it carefully and placed it flat on the table. "I know it was you."

Loki leaned back in his seat, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of innocence. "To what do you refer, Lady Eirlys?"

"The birds, the snake, the dream... even the guard." I glowered at him. "All of that was your doing, was it not?"

He looked up at me, his expression giving nothing away. "I admit I still do not understand to what you refer." He pressed a long-fingered hand over his heart. "But I assure you, I had no hand in it whatsoever."

I shook my head and leaned closer so that my eyes were level with his own. "Loki, I know you are not particularly fond of me," I remarked. "But please know this: my being here has changed nothing. One day I shall be gone as if I were never here. So, if it's all the same to you, I will leave you be if you leave me be." Then I slid his book towards him before whirling about and making my way from the library.

My face burned as hot as a flame while I walked, mortified by the manner in which I spoke to Loki, _a prince of Asgard_. I could feel his gaze boring into my back as I traversed the aisle. When I turned to look behind, I saw him avert his eyes in a failed attempt to pretend that he wasn't staring at me.

Suffice to say, I was able to sleep well that night.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please leave a review. I need to know whether or not I should continue.


	6. A Battle of Wills

**SIX**

* * *

_a battle of wills_

* * *

My little dispute with Loki stuck firmly in my mind for weeks thereafter. Every time I saw him—and that was often—I felt a stab of embarrassment. In all the hours I spent with Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three, he said not a word to me. At the very least, he stopped shooting cold looks in my direction. I considered it a blessing. A very small blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

During my fourth month in Asgard, the first grand event occurred: Thor's name day.

In the week preceding the very special occasion, palace servants were running to and fro in preparation. My lessons had resumed on their normally scheduled days. When I rose early in the mornings, servants were swarming the hallways. I wasn't entirely sure what they were preparing, but their tasks were typically accompanied by sharp clanging and the sounds of hammering.

On the morning of Thor's name day, I was to be free from my lesson, for Frigga had arrangements to oversee. I was beyond elated. From morning to late afternoon, a tournament would be held in the grand arena—the Thunder Tournament, they called it. Most exciting of all was that Sif and the Warriors Three would be taking part. It was the most anticipated event of the day. Perhaps of the year.

The day dawned, bright and cheerful—a name day befitting of Prince Thor. I stretched with a moan, well rested after a dreamless sleep. Upon rising, I garbed myself in a sleeveless periwinkle blue dress; it was another gown given to me by the queen herself, one finer than anything I'd ever worn. Once my curls were piled atop my head, I donned a thin silver circlet inlaid with blue gems.

Feeling more poised than ever, I headed into the hall where I promised Thor I would await him. There were fewer guards in the royal corridor, for most of them had gone to the arena and the banquet hall where the majority of the courtiers and other invitees would be.

The opening of a chamber door made me turn. I was dismayed to discover that it was not Thor who entered the hall—Loki was the one who'd joined me in the quietude instead. He was dressed in his silver and leather regalia, a green cape swaying lazily at his back. His gaze fell upon me in an instant, observing me carefully from head to toe in a manner that made my heart race.

When his eyes finally met mine, I responded with the lift of a brow. We awkwardly regarded one another, neither of us saying a word for the longest time. My cheeks burned as the memory of the library incident surfaced in my mind.

"Is Thor nearly ready?" Loki asked.

I tensed, startled that he'd actually spoken to me. Upon gathering my wits, I hurriedly answered, "I know not. I have not yet seen him this morning."

His stare lingered on me a moment longer. Then I shifted to turn away from him just as he looked towards Thor's chambers.

I held back a sigh of relief when Thor came striding out of his chambers at last. He too was dressed in his regalia, which consisted of leather and metal finery and a blood-red cape. The grin he sported was simply contagious.

"Brother! What a fine day this is!" he said, drawing Loki into a hug.

I was most amused to see Loki hugging him in return. "Indeed it is. Happy name day, brother," he replied once Thor released him from his hold.

The blond prince spotted me and, upon approaching, gestured wildly at my attire. "Lady Eirlys, you look absolutely beautiful." I smiled, glancing downwards at my dress. "Has my mother invited you to sit with us during the festivities?"

"Yes, she has," I told him. "And happy name day, Thor."

He simply beamed and kissed my hand. "Many thanks, my friend."

"Are we prepared to depart?" Loki asked abruptly, moving to his brother's side. "Or are we going to continue standing idly and keep everyone waiting?"

"Eager for the day's entertainment, are we, Loki?" Thor chuckled, thumping a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder. To his credit, Loki barely even buckled under the weight.

"Yes, I suppose I am." Loki glanced briefly in my direction. "I do love a good competition."

Following in Thor's wake, Loki and I strode with near two yards of empty air separating us.

Nigh on twenty minutes later, the amphitheatre roared as we took our seats in the box reserved for the royal family and their guests. Today, I was one such guest. By my estimate, the arena must have seated thirty thousand, each tiered row circling round the floor below. The box was halfway up the stands, providing a clear view of everything beneath. Frigga and Odin were already seated, speaking softly to one another. Before them, I sat on Thor's right while Loki sat on his left.

Frigga greeted us upon our arrival, but the All-Father gave Thor what I judged to be a disapproving eye—undoubtedly due to our lateness. Nevertheless, Odin stood promptly, albeit lethargically to address the sea of people.

With the mere lift of a hand, he had the entire arena blanketed in silence. "This day, as it is each year, is a very special day. Today, we celebrate my eldest," he pronounced. This was met with applause. He waited for the quiet to return before continuing. "On this day, we honour Thor Odinson. The day of his naming was a most momentous occasion, for he is a future King of Asgard."

Thor smiled up at his father whose gaze shined down upon him with pride.

"Now," Odin said, raising both his arms. "Let the tournament begin!"

There were well over a dozen competitors, Sif and the Warriors Three among them. The spectators cheered and applauded when the participants approached the stands, each with a white gardenia in hand. In Asgard, giving an audience member a gardenia was meant to bring the contender good fortune.

I watched as Volstagg climbed the stands to proffer his white flower to Hildegund. She positively glowed, accepting the bloom and stooping to kiss his cheek. This show of affection in front of thousands of people brought the brightest shade of red to Volstagg's already ruddy cheeks.

"Lady Eirlys."

Blinking, I turned to see Fandral on the steps, his mirthful face appearing just above the partition that set us apart. His arm was outstretched with the gardenia held delicately between his fingers. "For me?" I rose from my seat, biting back a giggle, and took the flower from him. "I wish you the best of luck." I leaned over the wall and kissed his cheek as many of the other maidens had done with their own flower-givers.

Sif approached the box next, and we both looked at her curiously when she came to a stop beside Fandral. "For the prince of Asgard." Her gaze was focussed solely on Thor. "My name day gift to you."

Thor chuckled and stood to receive the gardenia from her. "It is an honour, great warrior." Then he bestowed a kiss upon Sif.

I glimpsed the faint tinge of crimson blossoming on her cheeks before both competitors bowed and headed back down the stairs. Comparing our flowers, Thor and I shared a laugh. When we returned to our seats, I caught Loki eyeing us both, his expression inscrutable.

The master of ceremonies entered the arena first, striding gracefully across the dusty fighting ground. "Lords and ladies of Asgard! I present to you the first competitors of the day." His voice carried out across the stands, sharp and clear for all to hear. "Introducing the Colossal Balrohg, champion of the Thunder Tournament some nine years past."

A massive warrior bearing two large tourney axes stepped into the arena. He looked like he'd seen his fair share of battle with his scars and well-worn armour. I had never seen a being so tall; he must've stood more than eight feet high. He was met with a roar of excitement from the audience.

"And his challenger, entering the arena for the first time, the Lady Sif."

Sif walked forward to stand opposite her opponent. She looked tiny compared to the Colossal Balrohg, especially when she wielded a skinny little spear. Thor clapped loudly and let out a long whistle, drowning out the curious mutters. It seemed as though no woman had ever set foot in the arena before. It was an obvious peculiarity to the Asgardians, though not enough so to incite indignation. Among the Vanir, a warrior maiden would've incurred outrage.

"As our regulations always state: let no true harm come to your opponent," the master of ceremonies declared. In a tournament, competitors handled tourney weapons—ones with unsharpened blades—but, even then, a warrior could still deal a fair amount of damage. "Fight to the yield. You shall begin!"

They began circling, eyes never wavering, like two bilgesnipe preparing to ram one another. Balrohg was the first to make a move, swinging one axe before swinging the other. Sif dodged and feinted, twirling around him only to jump away once he brandished his axes again. For all his size and strength, the Colossal Balrohg was slow and cumbersome. Sif, on the other hand, was fast and flighty, a hummingbird jabbing him with her spear every few moments.

This went on and on. The cheering of the crowd was nearly drowned out by the beating of drums. From my vantage, I could tell Sif was goading Balrohg, a smile never far from her lips. She was trying to tire him out, and he was falling for it with every failed swing he made.

"I have seen her do this before," Thor commented to me. "She will never tire. She could do this all day."

"Do you think she could win the tournament?" I asked.

"It is possible," Thor said with a deliberating nod. "Although... Fandral is considered the finest swordsman in Asgard. He often bests her in a fight, but she has had her fair share of victories."

"Verily, they are the greatest warriors in Asgard." A certain sort of exuberance grew within me as I continued to watch with a keen eye. Balrohg was starting to slow, yet Sif did not falter for even a second.

"Well, other than myself." Thor chuckled. "And Loki, of course."

His brother turned towards us, surely having listened to our entire conversation. "Oh, I do not doubt that I could best every single one of these competitors," Loki said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Not a one would stand a chance against me."

"You are so certain of your ability," I said, lifting a brow, "yet you do not dare compete yourself?"

He laughed, though it was clearly not out of amusement. It was out of mockery. "If I competed, these fools would be so perplexed, they'd be hitting themselves with their own weapons."

I leaned towards him, eyes narrowed, an unpleasant heat crawling its way up the back of my neck. Among those 'fools,' or so he called them, were my friends. I simply could not brook such disrespect for them. Not from him. Not anymore. "And if you could not use your magic and deceptions? How would you fare then, Prince Loki?"

Loki made to retort, but Thor interrupted in a timely fashion, "That is why we do not allow Loki to compete. He is far too much of a trickster to fight fair."

"Yes, I have seen you combat one another," I said, sparing a glance at Thor. "I have not seen Loki best you without the use of his magic."

"I am fully capable of fighting fair," Loki argued, his eyes boring into mine. "I am a superior warrior, regardless of my magical abilities. To suggest otherwise is to insult me, you would—"

"Brother, that's enough," Thor commanded. Loki scowled at his brother. "We are here to enjoy the tournament. You would do well not to quarrel with Lady Eirlys."

Loki said nothing further. He merely turned back to the tournament without so much as a second look in my direction. Though he did not speak again, I could practically feel him fuming, even with Thor sitting between us. I tried to keep my attention on the duel below, but my thoughts remained focussed on the ever infuriating prince.

Loki's manner had been nothing but cold towards me for months, at times verging on disparaging. His interactions with Sif and the Warriors Three tended to be civil—though he tended to be quite snide towards Sif. Only when he spoke to Thor did he ever seem somewhat pleasant. After all, Thor was his brother, and the only one whose affection never wavered.

Before I realized it, Sif had knocked Balrohg's legs out from underneath him. The colossal warrior fell in a heap, and she pressed her spear to his neck, prompting his yield.

Thor stood from his seat and walked to the edge of our box where he cheered and shouted praises to Sif. The maiden warrior bowed happily and helped Balrohg to his feet.

Without Thor to bar us, Loki glanced at me then, his blue eyes sharp and virulent. I gave him a pointed look before turning back to the arena, my ears burning hot when his gaze on me lingered longer than I would've liked.

The tournament carried on, pair after pair engaging in duels of glory. Actual injuries were sustained by a few, but they were never serious. I found myself fascinated by the style in which all the different warriors of Asgard fought. Some were large, others small. Some used short strikes, others used large swings. The variety of weapons was staggering; I saw plenty of weapons I could not name.

After hours of fighting, two warriors succeeded to the final stage: Sif and Fandral.

Before the last duel was to occur, we were to revel in an intermission. The courtiers gathered in the banquet hall to partake in a late afternoon meal, spectators and competitors alike. Upon joining us in the chamber, Sif and Fandral were met with congratulations for reaching the final of the Thunder Tournament, a high honour in itself.

Famished, I parted with familiar company to seek sustenance. On a silver platter, I piled breads and fruits and smoked meats. As I savoured a sweet green grape, I turned and nearly walked into a group of maidens. "Oh, my apologies," I said, curtseying with my silver platter balanced on one hand. "I should be more careful next time."

"Do not fret so," the blond maiden replied. We nodded to one another and made to go our separate ways, but she halted upon regarding me more carefully. "Hold a moment. Are you Lady Eirlys of Vanaheim?"

Blinking, I turned back to the group of maidens. There were three of them, each oddly contrasting the other: a blonde, a brunette, and a red-haired maiden. They were, all three, young and beautiful Aesir of the court. "Indeed, I am," I replied. "You know me by name. I fear I am at a disadvantage."

Smiling much too eagerly, the blond maiden answered, "Of course, where are our manners? I am called Brynlar. This is Afildys and Dagmar." She gestured to the brunette and the scarlet-haired maiden, respectively.

"We are impressed that you were able to worm your way into the royal family so easily," Afildys remarked, plucking a plump green grape from my platter.

Clenching my free hand, I offered them an austere smile. "I'm sorry, I have not 'wormed my way' into anything."

"Oh, of course not. We do not mean to imply anything unsavoury." Brynlar arched an elegant brow. "All the same, you must admit you are in an advantageous position. They already treat you as though you are family."

I stared at them, still prickling at the suggestion that I had 'wormed my way' into the royal family. As if I were only seeking social prominence and not a real student of magic. The notion made me want to glower, but I carefully schooled my features and said, "You are mistaken. The queen is my teacher, Thor my friend, and nothing more."

They smiled and nodded like I had just shared with them a secret in code.

"Oh no, here comes that brazen woman," Dagmar said. "I cannot believe she had the gall to compete in the tournament." The three of them were soon ducking their heads and covering their faces.

I peered about, brow furrowed, before I spotted Sif a short distance away. Several male courtiers were praising her and kissing her hands. Anger roiled in my chest. _They refer to her as a brazen woman?_

"She is a shame to our sex," Afildys insisted. "And they call _her_ a lady."

When the three maidens laughed, I bit the inside of my cheek and held my tongue. In my witless mind, it seemed perfectly acceptable to goad and revile the arrogant Prince Loki, but I could not do so with these maidens. His opinion of me was already ill. I could not stand the thought of amassing three more poor opinions. "I ask for your pardon," I said calmly—more calmly than I felt at that moment, "for I fear I have lost my appetite. Please, enjoy the festivities."

Without even waiting for a reply, I pressed my lips together and walked away, depositing my silver platter on a nearby table. I refused to glance behind to see their reactions.

Sif raised her brow upon my approach. Moments before I reached her side, her male admirers dispersed.

"Eirlys, were you talking to those three?" Sif asked. I chanced a glimpse behind to see the maidens whispering to one another and shooting withering looks in our direction.

My stomach churned. "Yes," I sighed. "Unfortunately."

"The Simpletons Three have struck again," she said. "Do not dwell on their ignorance. It is not worth your time."

"'The Simpletons Three?'" I laughed somewhat loudly, neglecting my court manners. "I'll have to remember that one."

"They are not worth remembering," Sif groused, plucking a bunch of grapes from the tray of a passing servant.

Sif's frown could not be ignored. For all her confidence, her pride could still be wounded by a group of haughty courtiers. Or perhaps it was the upcoming match that had her ill at ease. After all, it was one of the most esteemed competitions in Asgard. "I suppose I should congratulate you," I said with a smile. "The first warrior maiden to compete. And you have reached the final, no less."

"Yes, well..." She smiled ruefully in return. "Fandral will defeat me, that I do not doubt."

"You doubt yourself so?"

"Oh, it is not a doubt if I believe it to be true," she replied. "I just know that I have been unable to defeat Fandral these past few months. His skill increases with age, even after so long. It baffles me."

To my amusement, she turned out to be correct in her assessment. Upon reentering the arena, they fought with tourney swords, and I could see she was having a hard time keeping up with his strikes. She was fast, but he seemed faster.

Watching the warriors in Vanaheim engage in combat had garnered my interest as a child. Lord Njord's soldiers were gruff, large men with strength-imbued blows. But their attacks lacked grace. I'd often observed Njord's soldiers fighting one another from the battlements. Sometimes I would even go so far as to join them, and I would run about the yard with a stick, challenging every laughing warrior to a duel. My fun had come to an abrupt end when my father witnessed my antics and declared such activities unfit for a lady of my stature.

Watching Sif and Fandral duel was akin to watching a dance. Both were light on their feet, striking and feinting just as quickly. Fandral twirled and swung with flourish, laughing at Sif's look of irritation. I must've appeared a fool, the way I scrutinized them, unblinking. Oh, how I wished I was as graceful as they were. To wield a weapon in such a manner would've been a great privilege.

A hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

I peered behind to see the queen's benevolent smile. "Yes, very much."

"It differs greatly from our celebrations in Vanaheim, does it not?" Frigga said.

Lowering my gaze, I nodded. "Yes, sometimes it seems Asgard is nothing like Vanaheim at all." And, though I never told her as much, I definitely preferred the Asgardian way.

As Sif had predicted, she lost the duel to Fandral. He was one step ahead of her, and she hit nothing but air. He knocked the blade from her hand using the flat of his own. With the point of his sword at her throat, she yielded.

The stands erupted in applause, and Fandral thrust his sword in the air as a show of victory. The contenders grasped hands, even though Sif was rolling her eyes at his silly grin. After they bestowed the white laurel wreath upon his head, Fandral bowed to the audience with great enthusiasm.

"Good show, my friends!" Thor cheered.

I rose from my seat when Fandral came to the box once again. He reached up and kissed my hand. "I couldn't have done it without you, my lady," he said with a wink.

The name day celebration continued into the night. Dinner was served shortly after the tournament's end, a hundred Asgardians seated at the table in the banquet hall. We took our usual places, save for Thor and Odin. Thor took up the head of the table—he was king for the day, after all.

In the midst of the second course, I could not help noticing the weary downturn of All-Father's mouth, the gentle slumping of his shoulders. He almost looked as though he was about to fall into a doze at the table, which was a frightening and peculiar sight. While I quietly observed him, Loki leaned over and murmured to Odin who only responded with the nod of his head.

Loki lifted his gaze to exchange a look with Frigga, his brows drawn together. It made my heart clench, not knowing what was transpiring, but I felt it wrong to enquire. What was worse: the matter seemed to concern Loki, and nothing thus far had caused such unease in the icy prince.

Following the feast, the court relocated to the grand hall. The grand hall was one of the most magnificent chambers in the palace. A platform sat in the centre of the room with intricately carved golden pillars standing sentry at its edges. Five musicians took their place at the foot of the steps and struck up an Asgardian tune the instant we entered.

Courtiers climbed the stair to the platform and danced without hesitation. Their dances were upbeat and unfamiliar to me; watching their spinning was enough to make me dizzy. I dared not make an attempt to join. Instead, I observed Fandral—with the white laurel still atop his head—flirt shamelessly with the maidens Sif had referred to as the Simpletons Three. With a sigh, I shook my head and turned away.

There were three very large arched windows in the grand hall, the apex of each nearly reaching the height of the chamber itself. At the base of every window stood a glass door that allowed access to a terrace. Wearied by the song and the laughter, I swept across the resplendent chamber and slipped outside.

My eyes drifted shut as I breathed in the cool Asgardian air, glad for the first moment of silence I'd been granted all day. Upon opening them, I was alarmed to realize that I was not alone.

Loki stood at the balustrade, hands splayed out atop its bronze surface, his green cape flowing in the gentle breeze. He peered over his shoulder, only just noticing my presence. Without a word, he let out a heavy breath and headed towards the door. Months now, he had been uncivil towards me. At worst, he treated me with derision. It was inexplicably agonizing, not knowing why.

When he passed me by, I blinked and said faintly, "Why do you hate me so?" In the silence, I knew he heard me.

He froze, his hand hovering above the glass door's handle. After a heartbeat, he lowered his arm and turned to face me. "I bear no hatred for you."

"Surely you do not like me." I paced the terrace to stand within arm's reach of him. "I just want to understand why."

"I hold no opinion of you."

"Oh, so you are indifferent towards me?"

"Whatever happened to leaving me be if I leave you be?"

I clenched my jaw and pointedly met his gaze. "Have you forgotten? You were the one who interjected while I was conversing with Thor. You were looking to argue with me, that much was plain. You were not leaving me be. Do not pretend to misunderstand."

"Why is my opinion so important to you?" he asked then. My heart jumped at the question. "Oh, I know what this is." I lifted my brow, wholly curious to hear what he believed my thoughts to be. "You desperately seek the approval of all you cross paths with. Even those simpleminded courtiers who so blatantly insulted Sif—your friend—in front of you. You said nothing to defend her."

I blanched, all too aware that he was right. It was only worsened by the knowledge that he had taken heed of the entire exchange. "Your opinion does matter to me." I licked my bottom lip and stood even nearer to him. "You are my mentor's son. The brother of a friend. A master of magic, which is something... something I deeply admire." His eyes narrowed at me. "Yet you have treated me with nothing but disdain."

"I haven't enough care to treat you otherwise."

"What have I done to warrant such conduct?" I asked. _He has treated me as such since the day we met._ I furrowed my brow. "I have done nothing to antagonize you." In my attempt to fathom the truth, I found myself recalling the way he glowered when Sif and the Warriors Three were amiable with me and not with him, when his brother showed an affection for me, when his mother offered me praise. My dry smile stood on the brink of sadness. "You are jealous."

He gave me the most incredulous look. "You think me jealous?" His laugh rang in my ears. "That is an absurd notion."

"I understand it now." The words came tumbling, unbidden from my lips. Weeks of frustration burst through the floodgates. "Since the day you laid eyes on me, you have been cold and dismissive. All those tricks were meant to embarrass me. You hoped to be rid of me, did you not? You hoped I would seem so horrible a student that your mother would dismiss me. Why? Was it out of pride? Did you... did you fear losing the affections of others to me?"

We stared at one another, an uneasy silence settling upon us. A shiver ventured down my spine when he leaned closer and I could feel his breath intermingling with mine. "With such irrational notions, it's a shame I did not succeed. My mother should have chosen better." Those words stung most of all. He regarded me a moment longer, looking as though he had more to say, but he graced me with a perfunctory nod instead. "Enjoy your evening, Lady Eirlys."

I watched him stride away from me, my pulse racing. His remarks roused an unfamiliar ire within me. An ire I could no longer seem to contain. He was halfway to the door when I took a single step forward and said, "You say I am desperate for acceptance, yet you do not acknowledge that you are desperate for affection. We are not so different, Loki." I shook my head. "You ridicule yourself as much as you ridicule me."

Loki paused, his posture tensing. He did not speak, though I knew he understood. After a moment, he continued forth and returned to the cacophony of the grand hall.

Long after his departure, I remained staring at the door he'd disappeared through, rueful of my lack of decorum and regretting what I'd said.

* * *

**Author's Note:** A very special thank you to my awesome beta, **Hr'awkryn**! Thanks also to my reviewers, your words are much appreciated :) Clearly, I have decided to continue with the story. The show must go on!

And please review! Share with me a favourite line, favourite moment, random thoughts, questions, concerns, your favourite flavour of ice-cream, whatever. Just go crazy and give me a shout out. I'd love to hear from you, my dear readers.


	7. The Shape of Things to Come

**SEVEN**

* * *

_the shape of things to come_

* * *

Three days passed before I saw Loki next. I would have suspected him of avoiding me if it hadn't been for Thor's equal absence. Truth be told, I had no wish to encounter Loki after what I'd uttered. As time went on, I felt increasingly ashamed of what transpired on the terrace. What had given me the right to say such things to a son of Odin? Or to anyone, for that matter.

A fine morning rose upon Asgard, and I lounged about in the courtyard to watch Sif and Fandral duel. Since the Thunder Tournament, Sif had become more determined than ever to defeat Fandral in combat. I took a respite from reading to observe her new techniques, wholly glad to have something else to distract me. Though I'd been eyeing the words in my book, my mind had been preoccupied with a certain prince.

My gaze averted from the duelling warriors when said prince entered the courtyard with his brother. Neither of them paid the barest hint of attention to us while they walked round the grass. After some time, they stopped by the bench nearest mine and sat with their heads bowed together. They conversed in hushed tones, their postures mirroring one another: stooped, defeated even. Thor's brow wrinkled as he spoke, shadows settling beneath his eyes.

I observed them silently, debating whether or not I should voice my concern. On the one hand, Thor was a friend, my worry lay with him; on other hand, Loki and I were not on the best of terms. For three days I berated myself for all I'd said to him, for goading him as I did in the arena, for the witless accusations I made. _Perhaps it is time to make peace_, I thought.

It wasn't until their conversation ended that Loki glanced up at me. Swallowing thickly, I held his stare and rose to approach the two brothers. "Is everything alright?" I stood before them, my arms wrapped around my monstrous tome.

Thor lifted his head and offered me a small smile. "It is no pressing matter," he said. "Father is preparing for the Odinsleep."

My brow furrowed. "The Odinsleep?"

"It occurs once a year." Thor cleared his throat. "He will become... mortal for a period of time. It might last as long as a day or a week." He shook his head and shared a look with Loki. "It is never easy to see him like this."

"At least his awakening will be marked by a celebratory feast!" Volstagg chortled nearby. Hogun promptly elbowed him in his voluminous stomach.

Sif came to stand beside me, her silver tourney sword still in hand. "There is not much we can do except wait and maintain vigilance." With a playful grin, she pointed the end of her blade at Thor. "Perhaps a bit of sparring will keep your mind off your troubles?"

The suggestion earned her a broad smile—feigned, or so I judged by the way his eyes did not crinkle as they usually would. "A fine idea, Lady Sif," Thor said, getting to his feet. Then he turned to his brother. "Brother, I challenge you."

Loki lifted a brow. He was silent for a lengthy moment before rising from his seat. "I accept your challenge."

They strode to opposite sides of the courtyard, each picking a metal staff of their own before meeting in the middle. Jabbing her practice blade into the ground, Sif sat heavily beside me, a sigh escaping her lips.

"A fair fight, brother," Thor said, prodding Loki in the chest with his staff. "A fair fight is all I ask."

With a smirk, Loki spread his arms. "I always fight fair."

"I am without Mjolnir." Thor gestured to the harmless weapon in hand. "Therefore, you should be without your magic."

Loki huffed, "Fine."

Without warning, he lunged. Thor sidestepped the attack, the blunt end of Loki's staff missing his ribcage by a mere hairsbreadth. Clutching his own staff in one hand, Thor brought it down with a mighty swing. Loki held his weapon, two-handed, above his head to block the blow. A loud _twang_ rang throughout the courtyard.

This conflict was without the laughter and the teasing, but the skill was not diminished. They drew back from one another before dashing forward to clash, their attacks but a blur. Thor was a warrior to the bone, with his hulking frame and vigour. In the instance that he landed a strike—and it was only once—he sent Loki stumbling back, gripping his side where he would undoubtedly sport a large bruise.

Loki's movements were fluid and shockingly quick. He ducked and dodged and whirled out of Thor's reach, an intense gleam in his eye each time he did so. He danced with a confident grace that I could never hope to achieve. In that moment, I was distinctly aware that he was a superior combatant, even without his magic; any assertions I'd made in the arena had been unwarranted. There was a strange flutter in my stomach as I watched him. Despite every ill opinion we had of one another, I had to admit that he was a fascinating sight to behold.

When evening fell upon Asgard, the All-Father went into the Odinsleep.

Neither Thor nor Loki dined with us at supper. Their nonattendance was becoming increasingly common; this was the fourth night in a row now. The remainder of us—Sif, the Warriors Three, and I—sat in quietude as we ate. I would've been perturbed by Volstagg's wordlessness if it hadn't been for his voracious appetite. There was never an opportunity for him to speak with the amount food he was scooping into his mouth.

"Are they always so concerned about the Odinsleep?" I asked, finally disrupting the long stretch of silence.

Sif glanced at Fandral, an unspoken word passing between them. "This is most unusual," she said with the shake of her head. "Their absence troubles me."

Hogun gave her a nod. "They were very ill at ease today."

"Yes, you saw the way they were hacking away at one another," Volstagg piped up. "If they'd been using real weapons, they'd both be confined to the healing room right now."

"Well, it always has been cause for distress," Fandral remarked. "The All-Father is completely vulnerable while he's in the Odinsleep." His expression darkened. "And Asgard has been attacked during the Odinsleep before."

"But it's been decades since we were last besieged," Sif said. "And the Einherjar are well prepared. What have we to fear?"

I merely listened to Sif and the Warriors Three speculate on what could've had Thor and Loki so troubled. Perhaps they knew something we did not? Maybe the All-Father's condition was worse than we believed. Sif made the observation the he did indeed appear more weary than usual preceding the Odinsleep. They talked at length, discussing every possibility they could think of. In the end, it was simply supposition.

Without offering any further conversation, I finished my meal. Sif and the Warriors Three bid me goodnight as I left the private dining room to find solace and rest in my chambers. My lessons were still to be held on the morrow, so I'd been told, even with the All-Father succumbing to the Odinsleep.

I spent some time at my desk, poring over a text, though my focus was not as keen as I had hoped it would be. At the least, I could sit there and look upon my shrinking stack of books with a proud eye. Three books remained, a fine sight compared to the initial ten—which had multiplied several times before decreasing.

I went to bed shortly thereafter, having determined that I couldn't read a single word more.

As I lay there, wrapped tightly in my bedclothes, sleep refused to overcome me. Questions weighed heavily on my mind: _Are Thor and Loki as concerned as we feared? What caused their prolonged disappearance? And what of Frigga?_ I had not seen the queen that morning, for it had been my day of rest. After seeing her sons, I wondered if this Odinsleep had her inundated with a similar disquiet.

A heavy sigh passed through my lips as I sat upright, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I could no longer bear all these thoughts and questions scampering about in my mind. Rubbing at my dry, tired eyes, I slipped on my silk dressing gown and headed into the corridor.

While the All-Father was in the Odinsleep, the number of guards in the hallway had increased tenfold. The ones nearest to my chamber door turned to look at me sharply. I wasn't sure if I felt safer or more wary in their presence; I knew they were well prepared should anything terrible come to pass, but they stood as a reminder that something terrible could indeed occur. Following a moment of appraisal, their gazes returned to their forward position.

Discomfited, I shut the door behind me with a soft _thump_. I paused, my hand on the handle still, and stared in the direction of Odin's sleep chamber. From my whereabouts, I could see light pouring through a crack between the massive double doors. I walked closer, my bare feet cold on the marble floor. When the firelight from the sleep chamber touched my toes, I leaned forth to peer through the crevice.

"My lady, please, you cannot be here," one of the Einherjar said. He was a captain—perhaps captain of the guard if the gold-chased helm upon his head was any indication. He gripped his spear tightly with two hands, his manner intimidating.

I took a step backwards, nearly tripping over my own feet. "I apologize, I was simply concerned."

Without warning, the door opened to reveal Thor. He looked down at me with curious eyes before facing the guard. "It's alright, she can be allowed in."

The guard gave a brusque nod, the hold on his spear loosening. I peeked at him mutely, then hurried to accompany Thor into the sleep chamber.

The inside of the chamber was large, if not somewhat bare: it contained scarcely more than two torches and the dais that held the bed of the All-Father. Loki and Frigga sat on either side, both of them gazing upon the All-Father with equal consternation. They spoke in soft tones, the queen seemingly offering her son comfort. When the door closed, they both glanced upwards. Frigga graced me with a small smile, whereas Loki made no discernible reaction.

"Trouble sleeping?" Thor asked, his tone hushed.

It was strange to see him in such a manner. He had been all cheer and loud speech since the day I met him. On this day, he was weary and looked as though all spirit had left him. "Yes, but I know not what has been bothering me so," I replied and bowed my head. "I did not mean to intrude."

"You are not intruding." Thor touched a hand to my shoulder before nodding in his mother's direction.

I walked over to her, delicately ascending the steps of the All-Father's dais. The furs draping the stairs were softer than anything I'd ever felt. The two ravens, Huginn and Muninn, stood atop perches to the left and the right of the All-Father, regarding the chamber with tilted heads. They squawked only when I approached, but I paid them little heed. The sight of the All-Father in such a state wracked me with a perturbing shudder. He was the most powerful being in all the Nine Realms, and here he was, sleeping. Mortal. Vulnerable.

Standing at the queen's side, I found myself looking upon Loki. Much like his brother, I saw a great weariness in his posture, as though he hadn't slept in days. He lifted his head to meet my gaze. I wanted to say something to him, anything to offer solace, but words escaped me. I looked away when Frigga took my hand.

"You shouldn't be awake," she said. "You have an early lesson on the morrow."

Despite the simple nature of the subject, I saw the glistening of her eyes, felt the near imperceptible trembling of her hand. _What has her so ill at ease?_ Glancing back at the All-Father, I observed that he appeared as fine as he could be while asleep. In fact, he seemed quite comfortable, at peace.

"I was merely concerned," I said to her.

She responded with a smile. "We will be fine. You should return to bed." Then she squeezed my hand and let go. "As should the both of you." She glanced from one son to the other.

Loki rose from his seat and, with a final glance at his father, descended the dais steps. Thor hesitated a moment, but appeared too exhausted to argue. He eventually took his leave. After murmuring words of farewell to the queen, I followed suit and exited the sleep chamber with haste.

While Thor was in the midst of shutting the door, Loki turned towards me as if wanting to speak. But he did not. If I thought it was strange to see Thor so solemn, it was even stranger to see Loki so mired with exhaustion. Three days they'd been absent, and I suspected those days contained sleepless nights.

Instead, Thor was the one who initiated the conversation, "Our mother is worried, more than we've ever seen her before." His frown deepened. "We have been most distressed about what she may have seen. And we remain uncertain if she is keeping something hidden from us."

I raised a brow, looking from brother to brother. They watched me with expectation, as though I held the answer to some unspoken question. "What do you mean she has 'seen' something? Do you think—" Comprehension dawned on me then. Of course they thought I would understand. "Oh... she has the power of foresight."

"It is common among the Vanir, is it not?" Loki said. In reply, I merely nodded. My people often saw or heard things from the future. Such visions were often accompanied by misunderstanding and confusion. And fear. _The gift seems more of a curse_, Hyldir once told me. "She cannot properly define what she has seen: a shadow, the coming darkness, death in hallowed halls—her words, but they have no clear meaning."

"That might be all that she has seen," I remarked. "Vanir visions are rarely comprehensible."

"We sought out Vanir seers, ones who have taken residence in Asgard," Thor said to me. "For days, we searched for them. We wished to know if a dark happening would truly come to pass."

Loki ran a hand across his eyes. "None of them could corroborate our mother's... vision." Letting his arms fall to his sides, he peered down at me. "Could a vision be false?"

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth before providing what answer I could, "I know little about the power of foresight. But I have been told that visions can be mistaken for dreams... and dreams can be mistaken for visions. Nightmares especially."

"So, Mother's fear could be completely unfounded?" Thor asked.

"The chance exists, but I cannot say for sure."

Thor sighed, eyes lowered to the ground in contemplation. "If there is nothing that can be done, then I shall retire for the night."

"Sleep well, brother," Loki said.

"I suspect sleep will not be had this night," Thor replied. And with that, he entered his chambers, leaving me in Loki's company.

We stood on opposite sides of the hall, holding one another's gaze tentatively. All too aware of my bare feet and legs, I shifted my stance, at a loss for words yet again. Then he straightened and said, "Pleasant dreams."

I watched as he headed towards his own chambers, his figure seeming small compared to most days. A part of me deep down urged me to say something to him. This enmity between us was driving me mad. I had to end it.

"Loki, I should apologize for our previous conversation," I blurted. He stilled, his fingers grazing the handle to his chamber door. "I admit that I am... ashamed of my conduct. I should not have said what I said."

"You need not speak of it." He turned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his tired eyes, both appearing blue-green in the corridor's dim lighting. "Sleep well, Eirlys."

He entered his chambers, and I lingered in the corridor, unable to formulate a reply.

* * *

_The figure is bathed in darkness. There is no light, not even the barest speck of it. He stands before a creature shaped like a man, but a monster through and through. The dark figure's facade is cold, stoic. Deep inside, he's drowning in fear. Fear of failure. For failing would bring him a fate worse than death._

My eyes snapped open. I near panicked, thinking myself in the presence of the monster and the dark figure. Long seconds passed before I realized what I'd witnessed had only been a dream. Settling into the covers, I stared at the gleam of the canopy above me. It seemed so radiant in the first rays of morning sun after so dark a dream. I let out a breath, pressing a cool hand to my madly pounding head.

The figure bathed in darkness was familiar to me... in the sense that I'd dreamed of him before. He who had fallen into the abyss. Even then, familiarity did not lend to the figure's identity. It felt strange to me, like a word on the tip of my tongue. A memory that could no longer be obtained. Ashes in the wind.

I rose from my bed, hands shaking as I readied myself for the day. The dream weighed heavily on my mind. In the advent of the queen's own visions, I was beginning to think it wasn't just a dream. Yet, my doubts remained. Never had I been privy to visions of the future, not in all the centuries I'd lived in Vanaheim.

The library was deathly silent when I arrived. My heart dipped at the sight of the queen sitting at our tables: tired lines creased her brow, her pallor bordered on unhealthy. She sat, hands folded in her lap, shoulders slumped. Nevertheless, upon hearing my approach, she straightened to appear as regal as ever. Dignified even in the most worrisome of times.

"Good morrow," she said.

"Good morrow," I replied. "How fares the All-Father?"

"My sons are with him." She surveyed my features before her mouth turned downward. "You did not sleep well?"

The question seemed odd coming from her; it was clear to me she had not slept at all. I heaved a sigh and sank into the seat opposite hers. Despite my concern—or because of my concern—I decided to humour her. "I had a dream... a strange dream." I tugged a hand through my unruly tresses. "It felt so real, so ominous. I have begun to believe it wasn't a dream at all... I suspect it was a vision."

Her expression seemed to soften. "Visions of the future are not uncommon among the Vanir." I nodded in agreement. "Was this the first of its kind?"

I frowned, my thoughts meandering back to the week of torment that Loki had unleashed upon me. The one night I found sleep, I'd had a dream. That dream was not of his doing. _I should have realized it earlier_. "No... I had a similar dream some months ago," I said. "At the time I merely believed it to be a nightmare. Since the... visions, both of them, have been rather unclear. There have only been two. I know not who the subject of my dreams is."

"The power of foresight can run strong among the Vanir, though it seems faint in you, as it is in me." She folded her hands atop the table and leaned forward. "You believe the subject of both dreams is the same?"

"Yes. It is but a feeling."

"Vanir often have visions of those they hold dear." Her voice held an odd waver, and I knew she was thinking of Odin. Of dark shadows and death in hallowed halls. "We can see the good and the bad that lie ahead."

"But why has this only now begun? I have never had a vision of this nature before."

"Perhaps it is a product of your growing power," she postulated. "You continue to gain control of your magic." She gestured towards the table before folding her hands atop it. "Which leads us to today's lesson: the merits of meditation."

Her attempts to divert our discussion caused me some alarm. "Is this not something I should worry about?" I asked. The terrible sinking feeling remained still, and I kept hoping that her words might put me at ease.

She hesitated before shaking her head. "If this is truly a vision, it does no good to dwell on what you have seen. Vanir with this ability often bear this distress alone. If what we see is indeed the future, then it cannot be prevented." She must have observed my dismay, for she reached out to clasp my hand. "I know it is a difficult truth to accept, but it is one you must know. Like the past, once seen, the future cannot be altered."

My shoulders dropped. I could not refute her wisdom on the subject. _It does no good to dwell on what you have seen_. It occurred to me that even she could not keep herself from dwelling on her own visions, if her marked agitation was anything to consider. I found some semblance of comfort in the knowledge that there were numerous other Vanir like us; they too could not avoid feeling such torment at the portents we were burdened with, regardless of whether or not they actually came to pass.

Frigga returned to the day's lesson without preamble, "Now, meditation can be used as a means to connect with your inner spirit—your centre, right where your energy lies. Through this, you will be able to better control that energy and your magic."

Together, we meditated, revelling in the stillness of the library. I surmised that the meditation was as much for her benefit as it was for mine.

* * *

**Author's Note:** A special thank you to my wonderful beta, **Hr'awkryn**. Thanks also to my guest reviewer, **Amanda**, and again to the rest of my reviewers—your words have been very heartening.

Until next time.


	8. A Master of Magic

**EIGHT**

* * *

_a master of magic_

* * *

The days following the onset of the Odinsleep were tense, albeit quietly so. Though the majority of those in the palace seemed unperturbed, my friends and I remained wary as ever. We spent our days in the courtyard, simply waiting, fearing the worst yet hoping for the best. Sif and the Warriors Three held matches in an effort to practice and distract themselves, or so I surmised. There was an unease in every swing of their weapons.

The queen's vision sat at the forefront of my thoughts more often than not. Whatever a Vanir saw in their dreams would always be mired with uncertainty. As far as I knew, a vision could foretell something that might occur days, years, or decades into the future. But we could never be exactly sure of when.

By the fifth day, the apprehension started to lift a little. Nothing had befallen the Golden Realm, and it was beginning to seem like nothing would. Our time was occupied with tile games and reading and the occasional pacing. Everyone, including the sons of Odin, grew increasingly impatient, perhaps even a little bored. By this point, if an incident should come to pass, the All-Father was probable to wake in the midst of it.

Despite the fact that Odin slept on through the sixth day, the princes of Asgard were much less troubled. The strain they'd buckled under began to lessen. After so many days, no one had laid siege to the realm, and no one was foolish enough to attack so late into the Odinsleep. Not with the All-Father on the verge of rejuvenation.

When he did wake at last, a whole weight was lifted from the Nine Realms. As much of a relief as it was, in a strange way, it felt almost anticlimactic—not only did we live beneath a cloud of disquiet, but Thor and Loki had travelled across Asgard in an effort to discover the truth and ensure nothing dire would occur. It seemed a waste, since it did little to reassure or offer them any such answers.

I contemplated what the queen could've seen in her vision that had her brimming with such dread, a dread that became so deeply rooted in the royal family. Shadows and darkness were not unusual for nightmares, but it appeared to me that she believed they were linked to the Odinsleep. We hadn't spoken of the Vanir trait since the first day of the All-Father's slumber, thus my understanding of it remained limited. The best I could do was not dwell on my own visions. I reminded myself that whatever Frigga had seen did not come to pass. It was a small consolation, but it was enough to keep it from my mind.

In honour of Odin's awakening, a celebratory feast was held, much to Volstagg's delight. The walls of the banquet hall were lined with tables, each surface piled high with various fruits, wild boar, succulent pheasants, and rich desserts; Hildegund even baked her famous chocolate cakes for the occasion. As I strode through the banquet hall, I saw her sharing a piece with Volstagg, laughing all the while. Not wanting to intrude, I simply smiled to them in passing and continued my search for familiar company.

Amongst the court, I found Queen Frigga beaming and nodding to well-wishers. There seemed a great relief in her countenance, as if she no longer bore a heavy burden upon her shoulders. Even then, I saw that something haunted her still when her eyes met mine. Although no terrible occurrence had come to pass, that did not mean it never would. As a pair of lords parted company from her, I saw fit to intercept.

"My lady," I greeted with the bow of my head. "I am most happy to see the All-Father has awoken." Several passing courtiers voiced the same to Frigga. I doubted any of them knew of the concerns the royal family had suffered just days past. To them, this Odinsleep was just as every other one had been—and, in truth, it was. "The shadows did not creep upon us as we feared."

She knew to what it was I referred. "Yes, nothing befell the realm." She paused to clasp hands with another matron before speaking to me once more, "Though a great foreboding lingers. Whether it be this year or the next... I am sure my sons described to you what it was I saw."

"They did," I told her, lowering my gaze. "I... I believe they were quite frightened. Though they would never have said as much."

The queen reached out and laid a hand on my upper arm. "We stood vulnerable for a time, and the threat of danger constantly hangs overhead," she said. "The precarious nature of visions cannot go ignored. At the least, they serve as a reminder that we should always be prepared." Her hand trailed down my arm as she nodded to a small group of courtiers. "There are several Asgardians I would speak to. Find your friends, Eirlys, and revel in the festivities. For this day, we have nothing to fear."

Hesitantly, I smiled and drifted away from her. She appeared to be in high spirits when she conversed with the courtiers. But, like the shadow of my own visions, the apprehension ever lingered.

Weaving through the crowd, I spotted Loki next. He stood off to the side of the hall, a goblet of wine in hand. In spite of my tarrying restlessness, I could not help but feel amused upon seeing the Simpletons Three fawn over him, gushing about how happy they were to see that his father had awoken. He did not look interested. Not in the slightest. Then he said something, his words accompanied by that cold, sharp glare I'd so often received. The three maidens seemed to take the hint, and they scurried off in the direction of Thor.

Once they departed, his eyes found mine, even with all the courtiers wandering about between us. Instances like this made me wonder if he could sense my presence. Given his affinity for magic, I wouldn't have been surprised. I had half a mind to approach him, perhaps to voice concerns for his mother or commiserate about the past days of irresolution. There was an insatiable urge to ensure the ill will that plagued our conversation was eradicated once and for all.

With a task to undertake, I started across the room. But then a figure appeared in my path, promptly putting an end to any thought of conversing with Loki.

I blinked and quickly curtsied upon realizing that it was Odin.

Since waking, he appeared somewhat younger than before—more powerful, if one could look more powerful. He had a radiance about him, his presence commanding great reverence. It was enough to make my hands quaver as I clutched them in front of me. "Greeting, All-Father."

"Lady Eirlys," said Odin, "might I have a word with you?" The request had me startled.

"Of course." I bowed my head. "I am glad to see you so well." My gaze darted around the room swiftly before returning to meet his. "There was some... concern while you slept."

"Yes. I am aware of all that occurs in Asgard, even while sleeping," the All-Father said. "Walk with me. I have a small matter which I would discuss with you."

I simply nodded. When he proffered his arm, I cleared my throat and tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. Courtiers parted before us like sheep being herded, and the All-Father led me past without even slowing. We walked across the banquet hall and onto one of the balconies, one large enough to hold over a dozen people. The quiet outside was a stark contrast to the rising din in the palatial chamber behind us.

He stood near the edge, gazing across Asgard, his expression austere. "My wife has informed me of your dreams," he said. "You fear they may be visions?"

"Yes, All-Father." I swallowed, feeling somewhat embarrassed about discussing my dreams with Odin. They'd been so unclear, to the point of meaninglessness. _What could I even tell him? _I wondered._ That I had a dream about some blurred figure falling into nothingness?_ "I cannot decipher their meaning. Nor can I identify the subject."

"Yet your dreams focus on one figure?"

A shudder ventured down the back of my neck. "Yes, of that I am sure. I can sense it."

There was a moment of contemplative silence before he saw fit to fill it again. "Less than a dozen Vanir living in Asgard possess powers of foresight as clear as one's waking perception." Odin frowned mildly. "My wife is not counted among them. Nevertheless, her visions serve as a forewarning—regardless of the outcome, as I'm sure you know. I believe yours are much the same."

"Should I be worried?" I lowered my eyes. "How can I appreciate a forewarning when I know not what message it bears?"

"I do not believe your concern is warranted at this time," he said, glancing through the balcony entranceway. I followed his line of sight to see Loki standing by his lonesome, watching the proceedings with a disinterested eye. It didn't take long for Thor to join his side, a content smile in place.

"And what of the queen's vision?" I asked. "She... well, it cannot be denied that she had your sons very concerned."

"I cannot claim to know what she has foreseen, nor could I be certain of its truth if I did," Odin told me. I frowned, troubled by the sheer uncertainty. The All-Father seemed to take notice, for he said, "I understand your visions cause you great distress. It might do you well to inform my wife, should you have another dream of a similar nature. Perhaps their significance will reveal itself in time."

"I will," I vowed to him. "I hope to decipher them one day, for I find them rather disturbing."

"Agreed." The All-Father gave a sympathetic nod. "Now, let us feast. I am quite famished, I'm sure you understand."

I smiled softly and accompanied him back into the banquet hall.

In the wake of the All-Father's celebratory feast, the days passed by without any disturbance in Asgard. Concerns lessened, and thoughts of worrisome visions faded to nonexistence. My lessons carried on, and Frigga's usual queenly demeanour made its return. As did her harsh expectations of my reading abilities.

"I think perhaps it is time for you to learn something completely new," the queen said early one morning. I sat across from her, book open before me, my brow lifting in a wary sort of curiosity. Whenever she said I was to learn something new, that usually meant I would be drowning in texts later in the evening. "What do you know about barrier spells? Or energy projection, as you might know it as."

I blinked. "Not all that much, admittedly." Living in Vanaheim, I'd read very little on the subject, and I'd never seen it practiced either. "I know only that it is a corporeal manifestation of magical energy. Sorcerers can create walls, orbs, perhaps even engulf themselves with it as a form of protection. Like a shield."

She rose from her chair. "I think you might have an inclination for it—since you do not have much of a hand for healing." I felt my ears burn at the mention of my lack of healing abilities. For months now, it seemed my healing magic showed little improvement; the intrinsic complexities of mending living tissue remained beyond my grasp. "But I've seen your spells of protection, warding away the elements. Projecting energy is not so different. It simply requires more potent magic, a deeper concentration."

I frowned at the sound of approaching footsteps. No one had ever disturbed our lessons before, since it was so early in the morning—not to mention we were in the library, the least traversed chamber in the palace. Thus, I peered round in surprise, only to have that surprise multiply tenfold when I saw who the footfalls belonged to.

Loki came to a halt before us, glancing from me to his mother with a furrowed brow. "I believe I was called upon," he said. "But it seems I am interrupting."

"On the contrary," Frigga replied, circling the table to stand before him. "I asked you here to partake in Eirlys' lesson today."

I was sure I looked just as baffled as he did in that moment. "How so?" he asked.

"I have begun to suspect that she is capable of magic that falls outside my area of expertise," Frigga told him. "I have spent many an hour attempting to teach her the intricacies of healing magic, but she lacks an affinity for it."

My cheeks grew hot again, especially when I saw the smug smile pulling at Loki's lips.

"She may fare better learning the art of energy projection, given her penchant for protective spells," Frigga continued. "Unfortunately, I may not be the best tutor for that. I believe that you are."

"Me?" Loki said incredulously. "What could I teach her that you cannot?"

She smiled at him proudly. "You are a master of magic. You know how to channel your energy, cast it into a physical shape." He made to speak, but she pressed on, "Your illusions and deceptive magics would be better matched. And you are better practiced in energy projection than I." Defeated, he glanced away. There was no way for him to argue out of this, for we all knew how proficient in magic he was. "Will you do this for me, Loki?"

He stared at his mother who did no more than regard him silently in return, her expression imploring. There was no denying that look—a mother's entreaty. It would do him no good to displease her. "But of course, Mother," he replied tightly. She made no indication that she noticed his tone. "I see no reason for me to refuse."

"Marvellous." Nodding, she briefly touched his arm. "Now, I shall leave you be. I would have a word with your father." She turned to leave before either of us could respond. While she was on her way out, I caught a glimpse of the rather pointed look she cast in Loki's direction.

Neither of us moved once Frigga took her leave. At the sound of the door closing in her wake, our gazes met in the midst of the lonesome library. He frowned, obviously not wanting to be here, helping me with my magic. But he stayed at the behest of his mother.

"Well, come on then," he said tersely, striding towards the window.

My heart danced strangely in my chest, and I got to my feet to follow.

As soon as I stood opposite him, he eased himself to the ground and crossed his legs, the leather of his garb creaking in protest. We were within arm's reach of the window. The sun was blinding when I tried to peer out at the Bifrost. He looked at me expectantly, his brow lifting when I dallied a little too long. Sighing, I imitated him, my dress fanning out around me. Our knees nearly touched when I scooted closer. I could see the green flecks of his eyes gleaming in the light.

"Rest your hands on your knees, palms up," he said. Fighting the impulse to oppose him, I did as instructed. "Now, close your eyes." I regarded him with trepidation, mistrust pulling at the back of my mind. Loki was the God of Mischief and Lies, after all, and I remained unsure of his opinion of me. Mere months ago, he had played those tricks, essentially terrorizing me—that was an incident I had not forgotten. I was beginning question Frigga's wisdom in asking him to help me. "Well? I'm waiting."

I huffed and let my eyes flutter closed. I listened to his voice and only his voice, the deep timbre surprisingly pleasant to my ears. "Feel the power inside you. Find your centre, where your energy lies."

"I have done this already," I muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose you don't need my guidance after all."

I squinted at him, the window's glare hindering my sight. The corner of my mouth twitched upward upon seeing his look of pure irritation. "My apologies, Prince Loki. Please continue."

He raised a brow at me once more, and I shut my eyes, inwardly reminding myself to keep quiet. "See the energy flowing through you," he murmured. "To the tips of your fingers. See it manifest in your hand."

I recalled seeing him do the same when we ventured into the crystal cavern in Alfheim. It had been so vibrant, warm even, like the blossom of life in the palm of his hand. Clenching my jaw, I attempted to mimic him, to manifest my magic in a tangible form. I looked to see if anything was happening. There was nothing.

I concentrated harder, adapting the techniques I used with protection spells. Casting wards against the elements was the act of imbuing one's person with energy. It was more like gifting them with a little bit of magic that would protect them from the cold or the heat. But this was different. Too different, I realized. This was taking my energy and projecting it into a physical form. Even more difficult was trying to control it.

"You must channel it, from your very centre. Down your arms. To your hands."

Still, nothing happened. My eyes snapped open, and I shook my head. "It isn't working, Loki," I said. "I don't think myself capable."

"Nonsense, this was how I was taught. It is the most basic form of magic, even a child is capable of mastering this," he retorted. I shot him a look. "You are able to cast spells of protection, you should be able to do this."

"I cannot seem to project the energy." I sighed. "It's just... different, alright?"

He made no rejoinder then. Instead, he exhaled and proffered his left hand. "Alright then, give me your hand," he ordered curtly.

Frowning, I hesitated for the barest of seconds before placing my right hand in his, palm facing upwards. A shiver wracked my body from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. His hand was cool, not cold, but certainly not as warm as mine. His long fingers seemed to envelop my whole hand, appearing ghostly pale against my ivory skin.

But it wasn't just the coolness of his flesh that sent a chill through me. What affected me most was the energy I felt flowing from his hand. In the past, I vaguely perceived the energy from other magic-sensitive beings, a faint hum, if at all. But nothing compared to what I could feel with him, so strong his magic was. It made my skin tingle, prickling from my elbow to my fingertips as if my magic were reaching for his. It was an oddly pleasurable feeling.

"Concentrate, just as before," Loki told me.

Licking my lower lip, I closed my eyes, but not before seeing him do the same. At first, I could not focus; the feel of his hand touching mine was unbelievably distracting. My pulse raced at the thought, and I struggled to ignore it.

I took in a great breath, seeking the source of my energy—my centre—as Frigga had instructed during our meditation sessions. I could tug at the magic from within, pull it through the fibres of my being. To my surprise, it felt as though Loki was acting as a guide, drawing forth my energy.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there, completely silent, with my hand in his. No soul could've interrupted us, so deep in concentration we were. It occurred to me that, for the first time, there was a moment of peaceful quiet between us. There was no thought about our differences. Or the fact that proper decorum fled my mind when I was in his presence. All that mattered was the magic.

When my eyes opened next, I saw the faint blue glimmer of magic in the palm of my hand.

Loki leaned away, withdrawing his fingers from my own. The light hovered, borne of my magic alone. Grinning, I glanced up at him and noticed the nearly imperceptible smile on his face. I cupped my right hand with my left and focussed on projecting all of my energy, allowing the light to grow only a bit brighter before dissipating into the air.

My breath came in short pants like I'd just gone sprinting through the flower fields of Vanaheim—all twenty leagues of it. My head felt light and my body drained. All for that little blue light in the palm of my hand.

"You will want to practice," Loki said. "You are altogether too drained from such a simple spell." I scowled at him, even though I knew he was right. "It may be quite some time before you will be able to manifest your magic in physical form."

"That is quite alright with me," I retorted. "I will practice each and every day."

He cast me one last lingering look before rising. "Very well. I have other matters to attend to. I have spent far too much time here already."

Inhaling deeply, I climbed to my feet before him. "Is my company really so unpleasant?"

"No." His gaze held mine, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. "I suppose not."

With that, he turned away and exited the library. I stood in his wake, flushing with pride. I imagined all the kinds of spells I could learn. Healing was much too complex, a difficult skill for beginners to undertake from the start. It would do me well to learn other magics first. Perhaps my accomplishment thus far was small, but it was a good start as any.

It was weeks before I could sustain the magic in my hand without exhausting myself. And a week succeeding that, I was able to create a physical shape—a disc of energy the size of my palm. It was as flimsy as a square of cloth, and it vanished upon contact. Still, I practiced with the queen in the morning, in the company of my friends in the afternoon, and in the solitude of my bedroom at night. Loki offered no more assistance.

One morning, I awoke to the light glaring through my windows. Pressing my head into the fluffy pillows, I sank back into the sheets to remember my plans for the day. I had been granted three days of rest after suffering from a series of gruelling lessons and practice; _everyone needs respite_, Queen Frigga had said, _even Odin_. Sif had expressed to me her wish to travel to the lake where we would partake in outdoor meals and drink our fill of wine. A day of relaxation with friends was more than I could ask for.

Beaming all the while, I dressed myself in dark trousers, a leather vest chased with blue cloth, and riding boots. It had been quite some time since I'd last gone riding, and even longer since I'd done so with the freedom and comfort of riding breeches.

Once I stood ready, a knock sounded at my door. I paced through my chambers and opened the door, expecting to see Sif. To my surprise, I came face to face with one of the Einherjar instead.

"Lady Eirlys, we have been informed that there is something awaiting you in the entrance hall."

"Something awaits me?" A bemused breath of laughter burst from my lips. 'Something' was an oddly vague descriptor. "What could it be?" None of the Einherjar in the corridor were able to offer a response.

I took it upon myself to discover the answer. As I made my way to the entrance hall, it crossed my mind that it could've been my father coming to visit. My stomach swooped with guilt when I began debating how pleasant such a surprise would be. It had been months since I'd last written a letter to him. His replies had always been curt, and I could not feel compelled to write him any longer.

Stepping into the entrance hall, I stared openly at the chestnut mare standing at the bottom of the grand stairs. I blinked, my mouth all but falling open, before I recognized the horse. "Winifred?" I hurried over to the ever faithful steed who snorted against the palm of my hand in greeting. "It has been a long time, my friend."

I noticed the herald standing beside her—red-haired and bearing the sigil of Vanaheim on his breast. He bowed before me. "Your father asked that she be delivered to you this day."

I furrowed my brow. _This day?_ I wondered. _What was so significant about this day?_ In the span of a heartbeat, it dawned on me. It must've been my name day. I felt foolish, having forgotten. I had lost track of the days since I started dedicating every waking moment to developing my magic and studying my texts. The sun had risen and set on an occupied mind. "Thank you," I said to the herald. "Tell my father... tell him I am beyond grateful."

The herald bowed to me once more before taking his leave, his task complete.

I stood beside the mare, running my hand down her soft neck and the white diamond-shaped patch on her forehead. She had been well taken care of in my absence: her coat was shiny, her mane straight and sleek. I glanced in the direction the herald had gone and suddenly found myself hurt that my father could not come to deliver Winifred himself after we'd spent so long apart.

"Norns. What is a horse doing in here?"

Sif appeared on the opposite side of Winifred, staring at the mare with open incredulity.

I laughed softly. "She's my horse, delivered to me from Vanaheim. In honour of my name day."

"It's your name day?" Sif said, her face lighting up. "I wish I had known! I would have prepared a far more exciting occasion."

I shook my head. "There is no need. I am not one for much celebration. In fact, I momentarily forgot that it was my name day at all."

Her smile did not fade. "Nevertheless, we shall have a splendid outing." She glanced every which way. "If only the rest of our party would arrive."

"Let us wait for them outside," I suggested. "I do not entirely trust Winifred with this fine red carpet."

We waited outside the grand entrance, and the remainder of our group gathered one by one. Fandral and Hogun arrived first, each bestowing us with kind salutations. Loki came next, though he did not offer any sort of greeting. Thor was the last to appear, a large grin in place as he enthused about how glorious the day was. After a cursory once-over of the group, Sif questioned Volstagg's absence.

"He is with his wife this day," Fandral said. "He has informed me that she is cooking up a storm and he could not resist joining her." He glanced at our waiting steeds and chuckled wryly. "Besides, he is not one for much riding. You know how the horses struggle under his girth."

"A shame," Sif sighed. "It is Eirlys' name day."

There was an outburst of surprise and cheer, though all of it was drowned out by Thor's thundering voice, "Happy name day! If only we had known, imagine the gifts we could've showered upon you!"

"I want for nothing," I replied. "The gift of your company is well enough for me."

"Oh, how she flatters us on her own name day." Fandral took my hand in his. "We should be praising you for your kindness." He kissed my hand, his smile charming as ever. "And your irrevocable beauty."

I was about to deny his compliment, but Sif was far quicker. "Please, Fandral, contain yourself," she scoffed. "Shall we depart, or will you stand here and blather on for the remains of the day?"

Loki sneered at Fandral. "Yes, please, let us take our leave."

"I am in great need of sustenance!" Thor said in agreement. "The sooner we go, the sooner we shall eat."

We mounted our horses and rode out, taking the road in the direction opposite the Bifrost. We'd ventured out to the lake several times before, but I'd always fallen behind due to my lack of skill in riding sidesaddle. This time, with Winifred, I was able to keep pace with Sif and Loki at the forefront.

The wind battered my skin and tugged at my hair. I felt free, so completely free. Oftentimes, in the days of my youth, I would ride uninhibited in the wildflower fields of Vanaheim. I roamed to be liberated of the pressures bestowed upon me by my father and the expectations that accompanied my standing. He wanted me to be a better lady, a better wife for whomever he chose to be my husband. Wandering the fields, I was free from all concerns, all the worries about my future, all the pressures I bowed under. Right now, I was just a girl spending time with her friends on her name day.

We rode from the city to the fields, up and down the rolling hills, deep into the endless green. Up ahead, I heard Fandral chortle and challenge Hogun to a race. Then they both took off, leaving the rest of us in the dust. Seeking an advantage, Fandral flung a walnut at Hogun. I stifled a giggle when Hogun simply caught it and threw it right back at him. The wrinkled seed hit Fandral directly in the forehead, leaving a large red welt in its wake.

The rest of us were overcome with mirth. Fandral slowed, whereas Hogun kept pace, the grim warrior clearly winning their short-lived race. We followed after Fandral who scrambled to catch up.

The lake was a quiet, peaceful place hidden in an alcove. A waterfall poured from the cliff above like a jug of water into a basin. It splashed high, white foam rolling endlessly. Radiant green grass lined the brim of the lake, soft and thick and perfect for lying in. I beamed at the sight and leapt from Winifred's saddle to join my friends at the water's edge.

In the afternoon light, we ate, we talked and we laughed.

On more than one occasion, I found myself looking at Loki, his smiles—as small as they were—becoming an increasingly common occurrence. He caught me on my third stare, and I swiftly averted my gaze, trying to ignore the flush of my cheeks. Even as I peered down at my hands and toyed with the grass, I could feel his eyes on me still.  
All thought and conversation seemed to come to an abrupt halt when Fandral exclaimed, "Wait just a moment, why have we not brought out the wine yet?" He waved rather haphazardly at our basket of goods. "Come on now, drinks all around!"

We did as he proposed, pulling out several bottles of red wine from the basket Sif had packed so generously for us. Goblets brimming with drink went round. Fandral was rather eager to down his own, liquid sloshing as he brought the goblet to his lips, but then Thor put up his hand to stop him before he could. "A toast! To Eirlys, in honour of her name day!"

"To her magic," Loki added abruptly. Breath hitching, I blinked in surprise at his unexpected regard. "Despite how terrible of a healer she remains"—I shot him a withering look—"she is determined more than ever to master her magic." He smirked, lifting his goblet. "And for that I admire her deeply."

When he drank, I knew for certain that his last remark was a mockery of what I had previously uttered to him. No one else seemed to notice the look I gave him, for they all shouted their cheers. His smirk only grew once I shook my head at him and sipped my wine.

As the day wore on, our high spirits simply swelled. After we'd finished our seventh bottle of wine, I lay back in the grass, goblet in hand, my body tingling all over. I hummed softly, my gaze soaking up the sights. The sky above, I could never become accustomed to. During the waking hours, it appeared blue, yet the edges were tinged with the black of night, deepening as it grew closer to the Bifrost. Asgard was truly a unique place. It was the rightful home of the gods.

The sound of a splash had me sitting upright to see that Thor had thrown Fandral into the lake. We laughed as Fandral stood, sputtering indignantly in the water, his clothes soaked through. He started griping to the prince, slapping the lake's surface and threatening to do the same to the God of Thunder. As Thor challenged him, I smiled and wished every day could be like this: bereft of concerns, whether they were born from Vanir visions or my anxieties about the improvement of my magic.

This was the life I wanted to live for the rest of my days. Asgard had become my home, and I never wanted to leave it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Heaps of thanks to my lovely beta, **Hr'awkryn**. And a big thank you to my guest reviewers, your comments mean a lot to me.

Please take a few seconds to leave a review! I'm starving for a bit of feedback here.

_Updated: August 17, 2013_


	9. A Test of Strength

**NINE**

* * *

_a test of strength_

* * *

"For weeks I have toiled, and I have not improved in the slightest."

"Patience, my apprentice." Queen Frigga smiled wryly. "All good things require patience. This is not something you can learn overnight. It will be years before you can reach your full potential. Many years."

My shoulders slumped, and I let out a weary breath. Verging on a month, I'd been practicing day and night, expending all my energy in creating physical shapes with my magic. Progress was slow, to say the least. "It's just... some improvement would be encouraging."

"Well then, let me see what you can do."

I hesitated for several seconds before outstretching my hand before me. With a deep breath, I concentrated my energy and projected tangible film of magic parallel to my hand—a barrier, in essence, albeit a very weak barrier. It was about three hand lengths long and equally as wide. Edge-wise, it appeared as thin as a sheet of parchment. Though I should have been proud of accomplishing this much thus far, I felt a twinge of disappointment. There were plenty of sorceresses and sorcerers of a similar age who far surpassed my abilities, Loki being one of them.

"It is quite fair," Frigga murmured, leaning forward to study my magic. "The next step would be to create a larger projection. Or attempt to shape it, in a spherical form perhaps?"

I narrowed my eyes and tried to shape the magical energy into a sphere, but the blue merely flickered and vanished, for I had sustained it for too long. Dots floated through my vision, and I hurriedly blinked them away. The disorientation lingered, as it had each time I held the energy barrier for as long as I could. That it exhausted me so remained a problem. How practical would my magic be if I needed to lie down every time I used it?

"Here, allow me to demonstrate," Frigga said. She then held both her hands in front of her, side by side, palms towards the ceiling. A sphere of energy appeared, blue and sheer much like my own.

I gaped, not in marvel of her display, but in mock offence. "My lady, you claimed not to know anything about energy projection when you sought Loki to aid my learning."

She smiled—mischievously, one could say. "I recall remarking that it was not my area of expertise, not that I was incapable," Frigga replied with the great dignity of the Queen of the Nine Realms. "I spoke the truth: I am no expert. Loki provided help, did he not?"

My jaw tensed slightly. Even if she was not an expert, surely she could have taught me the fundamentals. That day in the library with Loki, she'd been all too eager to compel us into cooperation. _Perhaps she means to engender peace between Loki and myself_. It seemed a silly notion, but I could not begrudge her of the thought—being in conflict with Loki was an unpleasant business. His manner towards me now was... civil. And I could not deny that Loki's assistance in the library several weeks ago was beyond helpful.

I sighed, albeit with a small smile, and held out my hands in an imitation of her. Again, I attempted a sphere of energy. The barrier manifested above my fingers, flat at first, then gently curving upwards. It resembled a bowl if anything. With a huff, I let it dissipate and shook my hands out before trying once more. The result was the same. I let my arms fall heavily to my sides.

"Fret not," Frigga said. "Your progress thus far has been outstanding, despite what you seem to believe." I managed an accepting nod at her acknowledgement, but nothing more. "What we can concentrate on for now is the strength of your barriers. Let me see again."

I did as requested and cast the spell. It appeared as a shield, hovering just above my hand. "I am unsure what good it will do," I commented. "I do not know its strength."

"Then perhaps we should test it."

In moments, she was leading me from the library, straight to the place I frequented most often: the courtyard. I doubted anyone would be in the yard so early in the morning, but one could never be sure. My friends did love their battle.

To our fortune, someone had indeed awoken early to practice.

We found Sif beating away at a straw figure with a wooden sword. She moved her feet with great ease, making play that the mannequin was fighting back. She froze mid-swing the instant our feet hit the grass. Her hearing must have been as keen as a wolf's.

"Good morrow, my queen." Sif bowed to Frigga. And then she inclined her head towards me. "Eirlys. What has brought you here?"

"As a matter of fact, we would like to ask for your assistance," Frigga said, gliding across the courtyard to stand opposite Sif. "I would like for you to strike at Eirlys."

Sif raised a brow and leaned around the queen to give me a peculiar look. "Are you aware of this request?"

I laughed. "Yes, we are assessing the strength of my magical barriers."

Sif nodded in understanding. "Very well, I shall assist." We approached one another, stopping at the midpoint of the courtyard. "Might I suggest starting with a practice sword?"

"That would be preferable."

Breathing deep, I tapped into my innermost energy and cast a barrier before me. It was three hands in circumference, much like a round shield. Now we were to see if I could make it as strong as a round shield. Perhaps a wooden one. Or a leather one, really—I wasn't very confident in my abilities.

I braced myself when Sif lifted her practice sword; it seemed so large and threatening in her hands. Then she made her swing. I flinched as it bounced off, the barrier rippling only slightly at the force. She tilted her head before making several more strikes. Each blow drove me back, so powerful was the might behind Sif's assault. I felt like the straw figure, standing there, unable to fight back. On the fourth hit, I stumbled backwards, nearly losing my footing as my shield fell.

"That was rather decent," Sif said, lowering her sword. "Practically speaking, you would be moving if someone were to attack you. Therefore, I believe your barrier would be more effective compared to what we just practiced." With her free hand, she tapped her lip in thought. "Imagine your barrier combined with the might of a sword... you would be using a shield without having to slow under the burden of a real one."

I blinked. _Is she suggesting that I learn swordplay?_ "Oh, I don't know... Lord Njord's soldiers tried to teach me once, but my father... well, he decided it was an activity unfit for a lady." As a child, I had been eager to learn the coveted skill of swordplay. But that changed when my mother passed on, and my father discouraged such behaviour. I shook my head and tried not to think about how he would disapprove if I picked up the sword again. "Besides, I see no purpose in my learning how to fight."

"Eirlys, the Nine Realms are full of dangers," Sif said. "Would you not be safer knowing how to wield a blade, to defend and fight, than you would be otherwise?"

At this, Frigga approached, nodding in agreement. "To be skilled with a blade would be a fine thing indeed. Your method of combat would resemble that of Loki. The combined use of weapons and magic can compensate for a lesser physical strength."

I could not imagine myself being able to fight as Loki did. Or at all, for that matter; it had once been a childish whim fostered by tales of great shield maidens. But I was a mere maiden of the court and a student in healing. I had spent most of my life playing music, dancing, and embroidering. Magic was something I had only taken a recent interest in. I was not like Sif, who'd been fighting all her life. I could not see myself in battle alongside true warriors. _But I have been learning spells of protection—barrier magic_, I thought. It was the kind of magic that should be used in battle.

"It seems such a silly thought," I said through a laugh. "My magic needs much improvement, I think it best that I do not divert my attention."

"But you wouldn't have to, if you practiced both at once," Sif suggested, grinning now. She was going to convince me, and she knew it. There was no reason for me to refute her; I had all the time the Nine Realms could offer. And I had a willing teacher.

With enough practice, I could adequately defend myself. She was right about one thing: the Nine Realms were full of dangers. Places like Asgard suffered from incursions, and if I had a mind to stay, I needed to be able to defend myself and the people around me. To be skilled with a blade was a fine thing indeed. "I think you might be right, Lady Sif," I replied with a slow smile. "I presume I will be under your tutelage?"

"Of course," Sif said. "Am I not one of the finest warriors in all of Asgard?"

"Verily, and one of the finest instructors, I am sure."

"I suspect you will also require further instruction for your magic," Frigga added. "From someone other than me." I frowned at the notion. Did she not think herself a strong enough teacher? I opened my mouth to disprove that assumption, but she continued, "I can teach you to heal and protect, but I cannot teach you to harness and project the power you need. I can only think of one such wielder of magic who can help you."

I could admit that my barrier magic had not been improving under Frigga's instruction. She was plainly aware of this, and it seemed that she believed Loki was the best viable option for the advancement of my abilities. Much to my chagrin, I could not deny that she was right. It had been Loki who aided me with the initial stages, helped me strengthen my grasp on the basics of magic. It was reasonable to presume that I would further progress with his guidance.

Taking her words to heart, I sought out Loki later that day. Following our little experiment, Frigga had declared my lessons at an end, and I watched Sif return to her fight with the straw man. At first, I awaited Loki in the courtyard as Thor and the Warriors Three arrived, but he never made an appearance. This wasn't unusual; he tended to spend much of his time in solitude.

I wandered through the palace, asking numerous guards and servants if any of them had seen Loki. Not a single one knew where he was. After searching high and low—at one point I even considered traversing the astronomy spire—it occurred to me where he would've been hiding.

When I entered the garden, the very one that lay beneath my bedchamber's balcony, I found him there. He sat with a book at the foot of the willow tree, legs stretched out before him. It seemed almost incongruous to see the cold prince sitting amongst the vibrant beauty and tranquillity of the garden, but everyone needed their peace. He found his here.

His head tilted to the side as I approached, obviously having heard me coming, but his gaze did not stray from his tome. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Loki asked.

"I have come to request a favour of you."

He lowered his book and looked up, his eyes locking with mine. "A favour? From me?" he said, and I nodded. "And what is it that you would ask of me?"

"I need your help," I said, "with my magic—energy projection, in particular. Your mother believes herself incapable of teaching me any further in this area, therefore I have come to seek your guidance."

"Ah, you wish me to tutor you." Loki nodded, closing his book. "Because I am the only one capable. A master of magic, none in Asgard my equal."

I knew not if this was true. Undoubtedly, Loki was a master of magic, but the assertion that he was peerless seemed steeped with his arrogance. "Then you will teach me?" I asked. "If none stand your equal, then I would have no other tutor."

He lifted a brow. "And what would I receive in exchange for helping you?"

"Bragging rights?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "That is worth nothing to me."

I huffed. "What could I possibly offer you? You are a prince of Asgard, you want for nothing." The distant frown on his features said otherwise, but I did not think much of it. "Perhaps I shall be indebted to you? My debt would only be repaid should you declare it so."

At that, Loki looked at me, scanning me from head to toe. I fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny; I would not give him the satisfaction. After a long stretch of time, he simply nodded. "Then you shall be in my debt," he said. "Meet me in the astronomy spire on the morrow. After your lessons, before midday. We will begin then."

Containing myself proved difficult. "Thank you, Loki. I am beyond grateful."

"Do not thank me just yet," he remarked, opening his book once more. "It will be trying work. And I expect you to be punctual. That should not be a difficult task for you."

I nodded and made my exit, smiling softly all the while.

As promised, once my morning lessons concluded, I headed for the astronomy spire—the tallest spire in the entirety of the palace. It was not even half past the eleventh hour when I stood before the door. With trepidation in my heart, I reached for the handle and pulled it open. I craned my neck and peered up the steps, wondering if I would still be punctual by the time I traversed to the top of the spire.

The stairs spiralled up and up and up, reaching dizzying heights. I squinted, realizing that I could not see the very top from where I stood at the very bottom. I scowled and speculated whether or not Loki was doing this on purpose, perhaps to taunt or discourage me. I wouldn't have put it past him. Jaw tensed, I stood as tall as I could and lifted the hem of my skirt. Stairs, no matter how many of them, would not faze me. So I started to climb.

The stairwell was lit by magic sconces lining the wall. It was not a flame, but a soft white glow that emitted from them. The bronze steps were wide, accompanied by a railing that I seized partway up, for the spiralling was making my head spin in a rather nauseating manner. For several minutes I feared the stairs would never end. Then I saw the top of the stairwell, a curved ceiling with only a single door sitting snugly beneath it.

It took perhaps fifteen minutes to ascend the entirety of the spire. My legs were burning by the time I walked the final steps and outstretched my hands towards the door. I pushed it open, not even thinking about knocking. I couldn't even be sure if Loki was already inside... or if he would show up at all. Out of breath, I strode in and found myself staring in wonder.

The room was lofty and dome-shaped with a round skylight in the centre of the ceiling. There was a balcony looking towards the Bifrost, the curtains drawn open to allow the sun to flow through. In the heart of the room sat a large round table laden with charts and astronomical instruments. At the far end, against the wall, stood a wide bookcase that housed hundreds of books—it was so tall that it required a twenty-foot ladder to reach the top. And beside the table was a couch, plush and red velvet, one that could seat at least five people. That was where Loki sat.

He glanced up at me—book still in hand—the moment I finished taking in all of the sights. "You're early," he said offhandedly.

"Better early than late," I quipped. He made no response. I circled the round table to observe the bookshelf. Upon regarding the titles it contained, I instantly noticed they were not books of Asgard. The volumes were all in different languages from different realms, some of them I couldn't even recognize. There were a dozen rows containing Midgardian books alone: novels, scientific texts, religious scriptures.

"Do you mean to read them?" he asked, marking his place in his book with a ribbon. A green ribbon. He always wore green.

"I have much to read already, but I would like to. Read them, that is. I am well versed in a number of written languages, including ancient runes." Only those who studied magic ever needed to read ancient runes, for many of the secrets of magic were contained in ancient texts. It hadn't been long since I learned how to read them, and it still remained a struggle, even with Frigga's help.

"You may borrow them, if it please you," he said. My brow lifted at his generosity. It was clear to me that these texts had been personally collected by him. No one else in Asgard would've gone through the trouble. "Thus far, I have been the only one to read these books."

"All of them?"

Placing his book flat on the round table, he rose from his seat. "Well, shall we begin?" He plucked up the practice sword that had been leaning against the couch before coming around to stand opposite me.

"Indeed we shall."

I felt nervous under his gaze, that piercing stare of his. Expression inscrutable, he graced me with a nod. "Show me what you can do."

Just as I had the previous day, I projected a barrier a foot wide and just as tall. I held both my hands before me, arms quivering from the effort. He did not speak as he studied my magic, circling me every which way with his arms crossed. Standing before me, he laid his hand against the translucent wall. Then he lifted the practice sword, and I braced myself when he struck with a blow that made Sif's attacks seem like a child at play. My whole body shook while the shield dissipated.

At his word, I cast my spell just as before. He delivered another attack. My magic fell. Once more, I restarted the sequence of actions. The result was ever the same. We did this again and again, my barrier falling each time.

"Concentrate," he snapped.

"Of course I'm concentrating."

"Clearly you're not concentrating hard enough," Loki retorted. "Your barriers are failing and I'm not even using my full strength."

I huffed and lowered my hands. "I am doing the best I can." With a baleful look, I threw up another barrier before he struck again.

We practiced this for over an hour. He would stop occasionally to reposition my stance, or instruct me on the ways I should be channelling my power. His commands were always terse, and, more often than not, he would berate me for all the things I was doing wrong with the use of harsh words. As exasperated as I was, I refrained from complaining. His assistance was a kindness. _Perhaps 'kindness' isn't the appropriate word_. At the very least, his reprimands made me more determined to prove myself.

By the time evening arrived, I was ready to collapse. The most I'd been able to withstand was three subsequent hits, but then I would tire and no longer be able to sustain the shield. "I think I've had enough practice for the day." I sighed, rubbing at my forehead with the back of my hand. Even though I'd been mostly standing still, my use of magic made me break a sweat. "I can hardly see straight. I've never expended so much energy at once."

Without waiting for a response for him, I turned to make my way towards the couch for a moment of relaxation.

What occurred afterwards was nothing more than a blur. From the corner of my eye, I saw him move, a light burgeoning in the growing dimness. I glanced back to see one of his daggers flying right towards me. Heart in my throat, I instinctively scrambled to cast a barrier at the very last second. The dagger hit the shield and, for the first time, my energy projection didn't even undulate.

Once the dagger clattered to the floor and stilled, I whirled on Loki, my eyes burning. "Did you not hear what I said? I told you I'd had enough!" I could feel my face growing hot, my heart pounding erratically in my ears. "By the Norns, Loki, you could've done serious harm."

"But I didn't," Loki replied, eyeing me calmly. A little too calmly for my liking. "That was the strongest barrier you've made yet."

I was appalled. More than appalled. Horrified, perhaps. No one had ever tried to strike me with a real weapon before. "That matters not. It was incredibly reckless thing for you to do. I might not have been able to cast a barrier, being as exhausted as I am."

"But you did."

Letting out a long breath, I rotated on my heel—which made my head spin in a most disturbing manner—and made for the door. "No, you know what, I'm leaving. This was just a—"

Faster than I believed possible, Loki strode after me and took ahold of my arm. Coming to an abrupt halt, I attempted to tug myself from his grip, but he was much stronger than I expected. "Eirlys, don't go." I stiffened when he moved closer, gently turning me sideways so that his eyes could find mine. "I believed you could do it. And you did. Sometimes a moment of surprise can allow you to tap into your innermost strength."

I looked up to see his face mere inches from mine. I saw what I perceived to be true sincerity in his eyes. He meant me no harm. He believed that I could do this. And, regardless of whether or not he was speaking the truth, he did have a point. That sense of panic, the momentary spike of adrenaline, allowed me to create the strongest barrier I'd ever created. There was no denying how much that was worth.

"You're right," I murmured. The feel of his hand on my arm sent tingles roving through me. Swallowing, I tried not to notice how close we were standing. Close enough to feel the heat of his body—or the chill of his body, as it were. I found it rather unsettling; there was just something about him that had me utterly mystified more often than not. Even then, I met his gaze sharply. "But that does not change the fact that I am still very cross with you. You _threw a dagger_ at me. I do not appreciate your mischief."

When he let his cool hand fall from my arm, I felt my skin prickle in his absence. "Lady Eirlys, I'll have you know the dagger was not sharp," he said, smiling; it was not one of those mischievous smirks, but a true smile. He drew another dagger from his belt, showing me the unsharpened blade with the flick of his thumb. At this, I could barely suppress the smile that threatened to show. "Nevertheless, I apologize profusely. I only meant to help, not to harm you."

_Norns, did he really just apologize to me?_ As infuriating as he was, he did help me reach a new milestone. My magic had achieved a greater strength, and I knew I'd be able to replicate it conventionally with practice. Sighing, I lifted a brow at him. "An apology from the God of Mischief?" I remarked. "Such a rarity. It would seem a shame not to grant forgiveness."

He chuckled; it was a strikingly pleasant sound. "Don't expect to receive them often."

* * *

**Author's Note**: As always, a special thank you to my amazing beta, **Hr'awkryn**! And cheers to everyone who reviewed. A few replies to some of my guest reviewers:

_**Bat3man**_ - Thank you so much, I admit it's quite a challenge having them speak the way they do. I just hope I can keep it consistent. As for when Loki and Eirlys are going to fall for each other, you'll have to wait just a little bit longer. It'll come, in time.

_**Amanda**_ - I am incredibly grateful for your review (also, thank you very much for reviewing every chapter thus far, I like hearing your thoughts). I took your review for chapter eight into careful consideration and decided I would try to smooth over the opening. Hopefully it doesn't feel so abrupt now, but I'm certainly not against going back to fix things further! Thanks again :)

Please leave a review! I absolutely love hearing from you guys.


	10. Nascence

**TEN**

* * *

_nascence_

* * *

It took another month's time for me to create a barrier with the durability of wooden buckler. I could hold my magic against the might of a true sword, though I remained unable to shape my energy projections as Frigga had demonstrated. Just the same, my determination never waned. I practiced all throughout the afternoons and well into the night until I was absolutely drained.

My lessons in swordplay began mere days after Sif made the suggestion. Sif and Fandral served as my teachers most often. Under their direction, my experience with a sword was far more encouraging than my experience with a bow and arrow. The two warriors taught me the basics: how to hold a sword, the stance, and the movement of my feet. As skilled as Njord's soldiers had been, Sif and Fandral proved to be far better tutors.

It was surprising, how comfortable swinging and blocking with a sword became. I managed to recall quite a bit from my impromptu childhood lessons and observations. Regardless of my comfort and ease, I was no where near proficient to win in single combat. It was merely enough for me to defend myself.

"Remember, keep your feet apart," Sif directed.

I carried out her instruction seconds prior to her attack. Wooden sword in hand, I was quick to parry for once. We circled each other on the grassy arena within the courtyard, our gazes levelled and locked. I remained all too aware of the Warriors Three spectating, commenting in whispers. At Sif's approach, I shoved the thought aside with haste. She struck again, and I blocked her blow clumsily before returning with a jab of my own. Being far quicker on her feet than I ever could be, she dodged it easily.

Thor's sudden rousing laughter from the gate made me pause. Sif waved her hand in front of me. "Ignore them. When you're in a battle, you want to keep all your attention on your opponent."

She made her attack again, this time from my left. I projected a barrier, which effortlessly absorbed the impact. Upon letting it disappear, I swung for her shoulder, only to have her duck out of the way.

"Good. That was very good." Sif nodded, lowering her sword to rest the tip on the ground. "Your magic has seen improvement."

I eyed her, only slightly relaxing my stance. I made sure to hold firm to my sword. Oftentimes, she tried to land a blow when I was least expecting. She would always say it was to teach me to remain wary at all times. Those kinds of surprises typically resulted in the worst bruises. _Bruises are lessons_, Sif also said. It amused me how she recited such maxims as if they were her name. Her instructor had taught her well, that much was obvious.

"And how has my swordplay improved?" I asked.

"That yet requires more effort." She seemed find the slumping of my shoulders humorous. "But, if you ever find yourself in the midst of a battle, at the least, you won't die immediately."

"Oh, how assuring," I responded wryly.

"Would you perhaps consider meeting me in single combat?"

Turning on my heel, I came face to face with Loki. He stood idly beside his brother, his eyes crinkling at the corners while he looked upon me. He must've entered the courtyard together with Thor during my practice match with Sif. There was something about the thought of him watching me that made my cheeks grow hot. When I hesitated, he unfolded his arms to spread his hands wide in a challenge.

The corner of my mouth twitched before I gave my reply, "I certainly don't expect to win, thus I am unsure if I wish to subject myself to such a humiliating defeat." Sif had been gradual with me—even now, she wasn't even close to using the full extent of her skill. I did not expect Loki to have the same deference with me. I could just envision him sending me face first into the dirt.

"Oh, come now." Loki smirked. "I promise to be gentle."

I clenched my jaw in an attempt to rein in my own smile. "Forgive me, but a promise from the Lie-Smith is worth nothing to me."

He laughed at that. "An excellent point. Perhaps we should consider this a lesson. No true opponent is going to be gentle."

I sighed and flexed my fingers. He was going to persist until I relented, of that I had no doubt. And he was not wrong; I could've used the practice. Perhaps a proper challenge from someone I knew wouldn't hold back was exactly what I needed to test my mettle. "At the very least, will you not throw daggers at me this time?" The others in the courtyard exchanged questioning looks, ones that neither of us answered. "No real weapons, and none of your tricks."

"This would be fair." He looked to Sif, taking the proffered practice sword from her hands.

He stood opposite me, a challenge in his gaze.

I tried to remember everything Fandral and Sif had taught me. I mentally checked my posture, my grip, the positioning of my feet. With a deep breath, I made the first strike. He deflected it effortlessly, gliding to my left. I used a barrier to block his next attack, so quick it was, I couldn't have used my sword to parry.

I returned with a lunge before stepping back and pouncing again. He swatted aside every attempt, barely even lifting his arm to do so. It was painfully obvious that I was not even close to matching him in combat. The idea of equalling him didn't even exist in my mind. He was faster and stronger, even without his spells of deception. Most of the time, it hardly seemed like he was moving at all. Despite his lack of action, I could not land a single blow. I was able to project my barrier effectively to block his thrusts, but this proved no advantage.

We clashed, our swords clacking loudly in the yard, and became locked in a struggle. He stepped closer in an effort to push me backwards, but I held my ground, my arms quivering in an attempt to match his strength, my booted feet sliding in the grass. It occurred to me then that I would never be able to match his full strength—and he was most definitely not using his full strength. That was when he slid to the side, wrapping his practice blade around mine. My sword went twirling from my hand, landing several yards away.

Before I could even make a bid to retrieve it, he grabbed my wrist and spun me, my back pressed to his chest. I became trapped in his grip, his arm circled around my waist. He rested his sword lightly on my collarbone as I felt his cheek brush the side of my head. "Do you yield?" he asked, his chest rumbling against my back.

My breath hitched when I felt his heart beating rapidly in tandem with mine. I squirmed only to find my arms firmly ensnared to my sides. "It appears I have no choice." I hoped my voice did not waver, but I was fairly sure it did. Lifting my chin, I swallowed thickly at the feel of his fingers shifting against my skin, his thumb stroking the inside of my arm. "It seems I am already dead."

He laughed, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. The sensation prompted a strange flutter in my stomach. Then he released me and nudged me forward, effectively removing himself from my personal space. A shiver ran down my spine when I turned to face him.

"A fine battle, Eirlys," Thor said, marching across the courtyard. "You held your own against my brother well."

I raised a skeptical brow at his overly kind word, but chose not to refute him.

"Better than most," Loki remarked; his evident amusement indicated that the comment was no more than a jest. Standing back, he appraised me from top to bottom. "You should concentrate on your magic. Not only as a shield, but as a weapon."

"As a weapon?" I shook my head. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Loki practically rolled his eyes at me, much to my immense irritation. "I suppose I will have to show you," he said. "Tomorrow, after your lesson."

I spared a glance at our friends, all of whom were watching us rather intently. My cheeks flushed under their rapt gazes. "Yes, indeed, later," I agreed, eager to escape the curious looks. "It is time to dine now, isn't it?"

"We have a banquet to attend," Sif said. "Lady Freya is visiting, if you recall."

Sighing, I pushed aside several stray hairs. Lady Freya was of the Vanir and daughter to the highest ranking lord. "Indeed, how could I forget," I replied. "That would also mean the rest of the court will be in attendance." I wrinkled my nose at the thought of having to socialize with the courtiers of Asgard again; it was the Simpletons Three that roused my aversion. Their unkind words about Sif gnawed at me still, especially because I'd said nothing to contradict them.

Loki seemed to notice my show of distaste, and we exchanged the barest of wry smiles.

Mere hours later, Sif and I met at the entrance of the banquet hall where we stood, both hesitant to enter. Already, the din was rising, punctuated with the occasional bout of laughter. "Oh, how I despise the maidens of the court." Sif let out a long-suffering sigh. She had far more reason to loathe them than I; she'd been the subject of their ridicule for a very long time. She was the maiden who dared to become a warrior and fight alongside the princes of the realm. "I would much prefer eating in our own dining room."

"Well... at the least, we know Volstagg will eat with a little more decorum," I said. "Sadly, that might be our only consolation."

"A very small consolation." She nodded to the guard to open the door for us. "We are brave warriors, Eirlys. We needn't fear a thing."

I couldn't hold back an indelicate snort.

Once the doors were opened, we entered the banquet hall together and sought familiar faces. We carefully avoided those we called the Simpletons Three; I sensed their eyes and their words on us, but I pointedly ignored them as we made our way towards Fandral.

"Ah, lovely ladies," he said. "A fine evening, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, as fine as it can be," I replied, sharing a glance with Sif. "Where is the Lady Freya? It has been many a year since I last saw her."

"What is she like?" Fandral asked avidly. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. Lady Freya was the Goddess of Beauty and Love; it was of little wonder that Fandral took an interest in hearing all there was to know about her. "I have had the honour of seeing her at a distance before, which is a fine honour indeed." He paused to grin lasciviously. "But I have never had the privilege of speaking to her."

I cleared my throat and said, "She is very... kind." I did not know Freya well, and it became difficult to describe her without delving into rudeness. The courtiers in Vanaheim often implied she was coquettish, sometimes outright saying so. After all, she was famous for her exploits, even if they were never very public. Most of what I knew about her came from whispered rumours and slander. "Yes, she is very kind indeed..."

"Too kind, perhaps?" Sif remarked, eyes gleaming.

Fandral appeared quite eager to speak more of Lady Freya, but I interjected, "I apologize, but I am quite parched. I shall return in a moment." I smiled at Sif, who merely sighed in response. Whether it was out of relief at being spared from the subject or fear that Fandral was going to pester her with incessant questions about Lady Freya, I knew not. Before parting ways with them, I made a mental vow to return as soon as possible to rescue her from his prattling.

I found a servant bearing a tray of drinks and, with a word of gratitude, plucked up a mug to see that it contained mead. I sipped at the sweet liquid contentedly and made my way back to rejoin my friends. That is until the three maidens I wanted to see least materialized before me.

"Lady Eirlys," the blonde said coolly—Brynlar, I remembered her name to be. "You are well, I hope."

Licking the sweetness of the mead from my lips, I swallowed. "Yes, and you?"

"Very much so," she replied, glancing at Afildys and Dagmar who flanked the left and right of her before returning her regard to me. "I hear you've been spending much time with Prince Thor." I frowned at the statement that sounded oddly like an insinuation to my ears. "And you've been begging Prince Loki to help you with your studies."

_Begging_ Prince Loki for help, she'd said. A irksome heat slithered up the back of my neck. I had to do everything in my power to rein in my temper and not call her all sorts of terrible, uncivil names. "I do not believe that my business is any concern of yours."

"We are maidens of Asgard. The affairs of our princes become our business," Afildys replied. She was the least courteous of the three maidens, clearly. "You know, I think we should become friends, Lady Eirlys. You seem to have the sons of Odin quite beguiled, perhaps we could—"

"It would be unwise to finish that sentence."

I jumped at the sound of the familiar voice and turned to see Loki joining my side.

"Prince Loki!" The three maidens curtsied in a frenzy.

Loki eyed them with a well-known sort of disdain. "You should know when your presence has become unwelcome," he told them. "One would think you'd recognize it, seeing as it occurs with such frequency."

They stared at Loki, their mouths all but dropping open. I half-expected Afildys, with her lip curled, to huff and petulantly stomp her foot. But she did nothing more than curtsey stiffly and hurry away. Brynlar hesitated a moment before doing the same and trailing after her friend, Dagmar in tow. None of them bothered to give us a parting word.

Heaving a sigh, I observed Loki, whose eyes were trained on the departing maidens. Despite having unleashed his ill-mannered tongue, he appeared rather unfazed by the exchange. "It seems as though they are rather enamoured with you and Thor," I remarked. "Your affairs are their business. How dare I consort with you."

The wrinkling of his nose was most amusing. "They have often behaved in this manner with any maiden who dared to do so." He took a goblet of wine from a passing servant. "Sif, at first. They stopped trying to befriend her when she began her training as a warrior. But there are others who've unwittingly endeavoured to converse with us only to become victims of their inquisition."

The thought made me laugh. I pictured the three like a pack of vultures attacking any maiden who went near the princes, prying for information or assistance in getting closer to them. "They are quite persistent," I said. "Do you think they'll stop trying to win your favour now?"

A breath of laughter escaped his lips. "No, I think not."

We fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence then. I drank liberally from my mug, eyeing the crowd of courtiers meandering about the banquet hall.

"Eirlys." He seemed rather hesitant before speaking further, which was an oddity in itself. "I think perhaps I owe you an apology."

I blinked. "An apology? You have caused me no offence, Loki."

"Either you are being too kind or too forgetful," he said, and I cast him an exasperated look. "I apologize for the crows. And the snake." I straightened, almost startled that he was admitting responsibility for something that occurred many months ago. "And the guard too, that was also my doing. As a matter of fact, it was me disguised as a guard. I had hoped to humiliate you."

"You did not humiliate me. Well, not overly so..." I trailed off, staring into the contents of my mug. Eventually, I cleared my throat and added, "Alright, in truth, I was quite embarrassed, especially by the jorgandr incident. The guards outside my door must think me mad."

There was the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I fear I must also apologize for the words we exchanged on the terrace," he remarked. "It was improper of me. And of you, for that matter."

"I already apologized."

"Yes, and I accept."

Stifling a laugh, I scuffed my heel against the marble floor. "I must admit, I am rather surprised at you," I said. "I did not expect to receive so many apologies. Two from Prince Loki? I must be blessed indeed."

"That will be all that you shall receive," he said lightly.

The not so subtle gaze of a nearby figure drew my attention. Glancing upwards, I saw that the gaze belonged to Queen Frigga. Though she was standing amongst several ladies of the court, her heed was centred on us. When she saw me looking her way, she turned and said something that made all the ladies around her chortle. At this, my brow rose. "Did your mother prompt this apology from you?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see the shift in his stance. Sipping at my drink, I tilted my head to regard him quietly. "She did give a few intimations. But that does not make my apology any less sincere." When his gaze found my own, I could not keep from smiling. As unusual as it was, coming from him, I was more than happy to clear the air between us. "Am I forgiven?"

"You are." I nodded. "No true harm was done. To my pride, perhaps, but such an injury will mend on its own."

"Then let us agree to be amiable to one another," Loki stated, holding out his goblet.

I tapped my mug against his goblet with a dull _clink_. "Please, let us keep it this way. To be your enemy would be the death of me."

Despite my seriousness, Loki chuckled. As I bore witness to earlier, to be an ally rather than an enemy to the God of Mischief was a far finer position to be in. He could best me in combat, and he could best me with his silver tongue. I'd already been victim to his torment. I was quite content to never to be subjected to such antics again. Smirk in place, he made to speak once more, but we were interrupted by the arrival of a true vision of a woman.

Her swan-like neck was the first thing that came to my attention. It bore the most beautiful jewels in all the Nine Realms. So astonishing they were, it took some effort to draw my scrutiny away from them. And when I did, my eyes fell upon the face of the Vanir lady before us. The Goddess of Love and Beauty certainly lived up to her name. She had not changed in the slightest since last I saw her many years past. Her crystal blue eyes were just as remarkable as the jewels resting at her neck.

Her coy gaze flickered from me to Loki. "Lady Eirlys, Prince Loki." Her voice was silky smooth and oddly alluring to the ear. "How wonderful to see you both again."

"And you, Lady Freya," I replied with a curtsey. I immediately felt like an insignificant little girl in her presence. The bosomy blond goddess stood taller than I, her features far more mature and appealing than mine would ever be. She even seemed to exude radiant power, the kind that would pull you in like a moth to the flame. It made me wonder about her influence over people, that undeniable charm she had.

"You consistently embody your title, Lady Freya," Loki said before kissing her hand. I quirked a brow, never having seen him act so politely to anyone other than his family.

When she graced him with one of her _too kind_ smiles, I felt a twinge in my heart. "Have you been embodying your own title, God of Mischief?" Freya asked, leaning in a little closer to rest her hand on his elbow. Even though Lady Freya was indeed married, she was not without her dalliances. Virtually everyone was aware of this, but it appeared no one in Asgard seemed to object. Those in Vanaheim, on the other hand, were more than happy to express their disapproval.

"Not as much as I'd like," he replied.

"Eirlys." She peered down at me, her air just as jovial. "How have you fared under Queen Frigga's tutelage? My father has enquired after you. It seems Lord Bjoran has been ignorant of your progress."

Though I smiled courteously for Freya, I felt my throat tighten, shame showering me from head to toe. It had been quite some time since I'd written to my father and even longer since I'd spoken to him in person. In fact, I hadn't seen him once since coming to Asgard. "My studies with her are progressing steadily," I told her. "I am very happy here."

"I am glad to hear it." She then tugged on Loki's elbow to draw him closer and wrap her arm around his. "Prince Loki, would you mind escorting me to the table? I do believe supper will be served soon."

I noticed the unidentifiable shift in his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Whether it was born of irritation or pleasure, I could not be certain. "Of course, Lady Freya," he replied. He glanced at me and gave an unusually polite nod in farewell. "Eirlys."

In the absence of another word, he walked with her to take their seats at the table. There was a strange hollowness in my chest as I watched them go.

Fandral came to meet me soon thereafter, now that I stood all by my lonesome. "Cursed Loki," he sighed, eyeing Freya all too favourably. She sat beside the normally cold prince, delighting in something he'd said. "At times I wonder how he catches the eye of so many maidens."

I lifted a peculiar brow at him.

"Ah, I suppose you have never heard the rumours about him and Lady Freya," Fandral said.

My heart jolted. "What rumours?"

"That they... you know." He made some vague hand gestures. "That they have lain with one another."

I blinked, my face and neck flushing at the very thought. "Did he tell you this?"

"No, of course not, Loki is never one to talk about his conquests—of which I am sure he has had many," Fandral said. "If the rumours are indeed true, I am quite envious of him..." He chuckled. "Never thought I'd say that."

I dared to glance towards the table again to see Freya leaning impossibly close to Loki, whispering something by his ear. Swallowing dryly, I turned from the sight.

A bemused smile tugged at Fandral's mouth. "Is something the matter?"

"No." I shook my head with haste. "Nothing at all."

* * *

**Author's Note**: A big thanks to my fantastic beta, **Hr'awkryn**! And a thank you to everyone who followed, favourited, or reviewed—nothing motivates me more :)

Please take a few moments to leave a review. I'd really appreciate it!


	11. Legends of Old

**ELEVEN**

* * *

_legends of old_

* * *

The following morning, my head swam with thoughts of the banquet. At first, I could not cease ruminating on my rather unexpected conversation with Loki. Not only did he assist in chasing away the Simpletons Three, he actually addressed me with a cordial tongue. Most astonishing was the apology he bestowed upon me. I considered it an intriguing development—and a very happy one.

The remainder of the evening had been predominated by Lady Freya. The ever-lively goddess had laughed and flirted with everyone she came into contact. Even then, she mostly remained in the company of Loki and Thor, sharing old japes only they seemed to understand. It felt strange watching her charm everyone, so friendly and full of good humour. There was never a bad word to be said of Lady Freya.

Sighing wearily now, I strode down the library aisles, blinking in the morning light once I came to the far side. When I caught sight of our usual table, I froze, momentarily stunned to see Loki sitting with Queen Frigga. They spoke in low tones, an open book lying between them. There was something about the way he conversed with her that made him seem so young. She seemed to bring out a certain kind of warmth in him.

Loki was the first to look up, the warmth in his manner seeping away when he saw me. Frigga followed suit, though her response was one of cheer. "Good morrow, Eirlys." She rose to move to the next table over. I saw a number of tomes stacked atop its surface, all of them concerning antidotes and salves—my latest subject of study, no doubt. "Are you ready to begin the day's lesson?"

"Yes, of course." The moment I sat across from her, I found my attention straying towards Loki.

"Oh, pay me no mind," he said mildly, tilting his book upwards. It was a new one with a black leather cover—from Midgard, I was sure, though I could not discern the title.

"As I am sure you have guessed, we are to start with poison antidotes and medicinal potions." Frigga slid the largest tome of the new batch towards me. Aghast, I stared at the book, which was as thick as my hand was wide.

For the next several hours, Frigga lectured about various antidotes, cures for diseases, different herbs and plants. I suspected she'd postponed my lessons in healing magic in order for me to concentrate on energy projection. Perhaps it was her hope that I would be able to apply my newfound control to healing magic in some way, seeing as it was one of the most complex forms of sorcery. To heal even the most minor wounds, I required more power to compensate for my lack of finesse.

While Frigga continued to speak at length on the subject of salves, my focus drifted again to the motionless prince. Poring over his book, Loki did not glance up even once. I wondered about what he was reading and how riveting it must've been, for his gaze never wavered. _Stop it_, I berated myself. _Just ignore him_. _Today's lesson is very important_. I was able to force my attention back to Frigga just as she began speaking of snake venoms. It was one snake in particular that had me listening raptly.

"Unfortunately, there is no antidote for jorgandr venom. When several drops of their poison enter the bloodstream, it cannot be cured, and one would have less than a minute to survive it. Their venom creates burns on the surface of flesh—that can be treated, though it causes much damage that is difficult to heal."

At the mention of the jorgandr, I could not keep from glancing in Loki's direction. I could not keep from remembering the illusionary jorgandr he'd set upon me. The corner of his mouth twitched. And judging by Frigga's oddly knowing look, I had a feeling she also took notice.

"I think that will be enough for today," she said, closing the book of antidotes. She pushed it towards me so I could add it to the ever-growing pile of texts I had to read for the month. I was down to four now—five including this new one. "Enjoy your days of rest. I shall see you here in three days time."

She stood, beaming at me, then at Loki. Nothing else was said, and she glided from our table, departing from the library. When the door shut behind her, we quickly sank into a silence.

The seconds drifted past. I sat with my hands folded upon my table while Loki continued reading at his. Clearing my throat, I traced the table surface's dark grain lines with idle fingers. "How did you enjoy Lady Freya's company last night?"

He peered over at me, brow cinched. "As much as I ever do." With fluid movements, he marked his place before snapping his book shut. I frowned and let the subject fade. "I believe I vowed to further instruct you."

I nodded soberly, rising just as he did the same. Then we approached one another, meeting halfway between the two tables. "Alright then... how do you suppose I use my magic as a weapon?"

"You can project your magic," Loki remarked. "Surely you can do so at a distance. Like an arrow—a bolt of magic."

"Yes, that I understand," I said. "But the strength of a... an energy projectile might not compare to the barrier magic I am currently capable of, as I would have to sustain it at a farther distance."

He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed me. "Have you attempted energy projection at a distance?"

With a sigh, I nodded. "Yes, though with poor results."

"Then show me."

Breathing in deeply, I extended my arm and cast my magic, forming a disc in the palm of my hand. It remained suspended in air, stock-still. Squinting, I focussed on sending the fragment of energy into the space before me. Even with so deep a concentration, at best, it moved slower than any snail I'd ever seen. The magic did no more than drift from my palm to the tips of my fingers at an agonizing pace.

"It would help to use a little physical movement," Loki said, sounding somewhat exasperated. He circled to stand behind me. "You'll need more than just your mind and your energy." He stepped closer to me, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my right wrist. I tensed at the feeling of his skin on mine. He didn't seem to notice; if he did, he gave no indication. "Do you see those globes by the wall?" Eyeing the eight bronze spheres, I nodded mutely. "Aim for the one in the middle—that would be Jotunheim."

I leaned to the side to peek up at him, my nose nearly brushing his chin as I did so. "You want me to hit one of those globes?"

"Yes, I've struck them plenty of times during my studies in magic. They're quite resilient, believe me." He repositioned my stance with the gentle nudge of his fingers against my lower back. "Now, show me what you are capable of."

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I inhaled and focussed all my energy. The disc of energy was tangible, warm, tingling. Every muscle in my body tightened as I pinpointed my target. Then I reared my arm back and tossed my magic. Although I managed to sustain the projection at a distance, my aim obviously needed work. Instead of flying straight like I intended, it curved sharply to the left and soared into the books standing on the next table over. The tower of tomes wobbled and tilted, ready to topple.

In a moment of panic, I threw out my hands and blocked one side of the stack with a barrier. Eyes wide, I stared at the books and held my breath. They teetered precariously, seeming to glow in the light of my bright blue magic. But eventually they stopped and stilled, and I let the barrier drop. Chest heaving, I looked over my shoulder at Loki who seemed almost amused by my mad scramble to rescue the texts from a nasty fall.

"Honestly, Eirlys, have you never thrown a disc before?"

I huffed indignantly. "I'll have you know the extent of my physical capability does not go beyond dance and horseback riding. My aim has not often been exercised."

The breath of his laughter caressed the skin of my neck, sending a shiver through me. "Yes, I seem to recall your severe lack of skill with a bow and arrow."

As affronted as I was, I found myself laughing at the memory. So terrible my attempt had been, I vowed never to touch a bow and arrow again.

"Am I interrupting?"

The sudden addition of a voice made me start. In the presence of another, I became keenly aware of my close proximity to Loki: his hand resting on my shoulder still, my back brushing his chest. We both drew away from one another at an equally hasty pace. Cheeks burning hot, I looked about to see that it was Sif who had come upon us.

"Lady Sif." He spoke her name almost impudently. "What brings you here? I did not think you one to march the field of books. I daresay they are not well suited to your mind."

I shot him a withering look. Sif cast him a similarly baleful glance. "I am not a simpleton, Loki," she retorted. Then she approached our table before slamming a particularly heavy tome upon its surface. "Despite what you may think. You believe all to be simpletons, don't you, oh clever God of Mischief."

"In comparison to myself?" Loki replied. "Of course I do."

"Your humility is astounding," Sif deadpanned. Letting out a sigh, she shook her head and looked at me. "I did not come here to exchange barbs with Loki. I had hoped to speak with you, Eirlys."

I rounded the table to stand by her side. "Of what did you wish to speak?"

Her gaze flickered briefly to Loki when he moved to take the seat across from her. Once she returned her regard to me, I saw a fire gleaming within her eyes. "Have you ever heard of the sword called Drekisbane?"

I took a moment to search my memory, but the name held no significance in my mind. "I cannot say I have. Is it a weapon of legend?"

"Quite so." Sif nodded, opened her book and rifled through its pages. "It was wielded by one of our kingdom's most exalted shield maidens: Skjoldis."

Upon coming to rest on one particular page, she gestured to the depiction of a fair-haired maiden bearing a small buckler and a double-bladed staff. I found the weapon rather peculiar; it was but a long leather-laden handle sporting two long blades at either end. Like two swords joined at the hilt.

"I have heard of Skjoldis before," I said, leaning closer to examine the image of the fierce warrior maiden. There weren't many warrior maidens in the lengthy history of Asgard and its sister worlds, but she was one of the few I'd read about in my youth. "She who slew three mighty serpents before succumbing to their poisons."

"And her blade, Drekisbane, was long thought to be lost in the cold wastes of Nidavellir where she last battled the three serpents." With a calloused finger, she traced the lines of text that were of note. "It is said that the dwarves Dvalinn and Durin forged this weapon so that Skjoldis could defend them from these serpents. They were the finest dwarven blacksmiths in all the Realms, therefore Drekisbane could not have perished."

Brow creased, I raised my head and shared a skeptical look with Loki. "Sif, what has prompted this interest?" I asked. "To be fair, I do enjoy the tale of Skjoldis, but I see in your eye that you are scheming something."

"You read me well." She gave me a crooked smile. "I met a dwarf at the market this morning. He claims that Drekisbane can be found deep in the mountains of Nidavellir." Clearly having come prepared, she pulled a map out of her pocket and laid it flat on the table before us. I held no familiarity with the lands of Nidavellir. Upon surveying the detailed representation, all I could perceive were mountains. Somewhere in the middle, there was a location circled in red ink. "I wish to seek Drekisbane for myself."

"That is a ludicrous idea," Loki said immediately. "Skjoldis is just a legend from the time of Buri—my great-grandfather—which means she would've lived thousands upon thousands of years ago. I question the authenticity of such tales."

Sif shook her head. "That does not make it completely untrue."

Loki scoffed at her. "And you would trust the word of some dwarf you met at the market? I'm surprised at you, Sif."

"The legend has been passed down by the dwarves, that's how he knows." She leaned forward, bracing one hand on the table while jabbing a finger at Loki with the other. "And we've gone on far more foolhardy adventures before."

"Yes, at Thor's behest," Loki countered. "I did not expect such folly from you."

"Is it really so foolish?" I asked softly. They both glanced at me—Sif with fervour, Loki in disbelief. "The greatest danger in Nidavellir is the cold, correct?" Sif nodded. "I can shield us from that. Should any other danger befall us, we have the greatest warriors of Asgard in our midst. The worst that could happen is that we do not find Drekisbane."

The grin that blossomed on Sif's features was the broadest I'd ever seen. I half-expected her to embrace me, but she did not. "Then we shall depart on the morrow. We will have to be very precise about where we land," she said with an eagerness I had never witnessed in her before. "Unfortunately, we will have to travel on foot. The hills and the snow would be too much for our horses."

A scoff cut her elation short. Our heed was drawn to Loki who simply shook his head in disapproval. "You are sincere about this."

Sif doused him in a dry chuckle. "Will you join us, my prince?"

"I suppose I'll have to." He sighed, obviously vexed by the very notion. "What would my mother say if I let her apprentice kill herself on the slopes of Nidavellir? Along with all her friends, no less."

"Your confidence in us is unmatched," Sif said wryly. "For now, I must plan our adventure with care." She closed her book before touching a hand to my shoulder. "Dress warmly."

I smiled in response to her jest as she wandered off between the shelves, no doubt to search for more charts and maps. Once she was out of sight, I turned to Loki whose sharp stare never wavered from me. He was unimpressed, to say the least. "You should not have encouraged her," he said. "You are as much a fool as she, fanning the flames of such follies."

"Yet you said nothing to change her mind," I replied.

He snorted derisively. "She would not have listened to me."

"No?" I laughed, nodding. "But you still accompany us, regardless. You are not as unlike them as you think." His brow rose when he met my gaze. "You seek adventure, do you not? You crave it, like they do. I've heard the stories."

"We were born for great things. My brother and I can't help it," he said. I very nearly derided him for his conceit. "But what of you? You were not meant for this, yet you are so eager for adventure. Why is that? Trying to prove that you're more than just another maiden of the court? Trying to prove your worth?"

"And you are not?" I asked. He made no reply. "I have no illusions about my worth, and I have no illusions about adventure. I follow my friends into folly to help them—to protect them in any way I can. Sif would've gone to Nidavellir no matter what I said. I go with them because I care. You must understand that."

His smile was rueful. "Yes. I suppose I do."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Apologies for the somewhat shorter chapter this week. I'll try and see if I can update a little earlier next time to make up for it :)

As always, special thanks to my marvellous beta, **Hr'awkryn**. And a thank you to all those who reviewed, favourited, and subscribed. Every single one brightens my day.

Please leave a review. I will never tire of hearing from you, my dear readers!


	12. Into the Storm

**TWELVE**

* * *

_into the storm_

* * *

A new day dawned, ushering forth the beginning of a new adventure. I paced along the length of the Rainbow Bridge, head tilted back, and admired the rose and gold of the sunrise melding into the blackness above the Bifrost. Upon coming to a halt at the entrance of the observatory, I gave a cursory once-over of those gathered. Most of our company stood ready, dressed for the cold to relieve me from the amount of magic I would have to expend. Yet we waited for one still; Thor had yet to arrive.

"What has caused his delay?" Hogun asked.

Fandral sighed. "Any manner of things. Too much ale last night?" He looked to Volstagg who could only shrug in response. "Too many maidens last night? Perhaps both?"

"We should have woken him," Loki said to me. "I should've known he would keep us waiting."

The thought of attempting to awaken Thor only to find him with a maiden in his bed made my ears burn. "I think perhaps that would've been unwise," I replied. Although Loki was facing away from me, I saw the dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Heimdall standing among us on the bridge. His patience evidently surpassed that of my friends. Unmoving, he stared straight ahead with his broadsword clutched before him. He did not comment on Thor's absence, though I suspected he could perceive the wayward prince with his all-seeing eyes.

Sif heaved a sigh and situated herself before the guardian of the Bifrost. Fist clutched over her chest, she bowed to him. "My deepest gratitude for allowing us passage to Nidavellir," she said. "I understand you don't usually allow citizens to travel there."

Heimdall graced her with a nod of acknowledgement. "The climate does not permit many a visitor."

Before anything else could be said of it, the distant thundering of hooves drew our attention. We remained silent, turning to watch Thor's approach. His silly grin was visible, even at such a distance.

"You are inexcusably late," Sif said when he slowed to dismount his horse, leaving his stallion to mingle with our own steeds. "Thor, what could have delayed you so?"

"Sorry, Sif." Thor strode up the bridge, smiling still. "I slept more than I meant to." One could say he was smiling slyly. "Well, truth be told, I believe I slept far less than I meant to."

No one questioned his meaning—though I glimpsed the smirk Fandral gave him as if they shared in a lewd jest. Sif, on the other hand, did no more than frown. "Well then, can we leave at last?" She spun on her heel and, with Heimdall at her side, went inside the Bifrost observatory.

"So impatient, Sif." Thor chuckled, following after her. "It's not as though Drekisbane is going to vanish the longer you wait. Skjoldis died millennia past. Drekisbane has probably gone untouched since then."

Cautiously, I joined Sif by the forefront of the Bifrost where the opening lay. Regarding the dark emptiness beyond never failed to send an unpleasant shudder through me.

"It is not impatience, Thor," she remarked. "You kept everyone waiting on you." I cast a sideways glance at Sif to see her posture stiff, her jaw clenched. It was strange to see her so vexed, especially considering Thor kept us waiting on him more often than not.

"I apologized." Thor appeared on her other side. He looked sincerely remorseful. "What more would you ask of me? Name it."

"Nothing. I ask nothing more of you." She gave Thor a tight smile. "You are here, so let us depart."

Thor seemed to relax, but I did not. Despite the questioning look I cast in her direction, her stare never strayed from the great void.

Behind us, Heimdall plunged his broadsword into the pedestal, activating the Bifrost. Light crackled and shot in all different directions as the observatory began spinning. "The elements in Nidavellir are a force to be reckoned with," Heimdall warned. He beheld me then, and I could've sworn I saw humour in his eyes. "Though I suppose you need not concern yourselves with such trivialities."

Then the Bifrost, fully charged, sent us travelling through the vast emptiness of space. The disturbing feeling of being flung from one world to another was something I could never become accustomed to. With the light and darkness streaking past, I could barely heed what lay ahead before we came to a rest on the surface of Nidavellir.

I landed in the snow, knee-deep in the powdery white. The stab of the freezing cold was so sudden, I nearly cried aloud. Gritting my teeth, I cast a spell over our group of seven to ward away the chill. The shudders that threatened to wrack my body ceased instantly, the wintery temperature dulling to a mild coolness. My magic was not yet strong enough to block the physical elements, and I had to wrap my scarf around my face several times to shield against the wind and the flying snow.

"By the Norns!" Fandral cried into the screeching wind. "I don't know why I let you convince me to travel to all the worst places in the Nine Realms!"

Revolving in place, I took in our surroundings. Or tried to. The flurry of snow was thick and wild as it roared all around us. I could barely see more than several yards ahead of me. Although the white flakes swirled wildly, walling us in, it was the gale that truly blinded us. The painful gusts of wind made it difficult to keep my eyes open. I could not feel its chill, but it tugged and battered my face nonetheless, evoking tears in the corners of my eyes.

I jolted when Loki grabbed my arm and shoved me between Fandral and himself. Together, we formed a circle, huddling around Sif's crouched form as she attempted to read her map and compass.

"And, really, whose bright idea was it to travel here during the worst season?" Fandral said, his voice muffled by the fur trimmings of his cloak.

"This is the _best_ season of the year!" Sif shouted over the rising tempest. She stood and tucked her map safely away. "Follow my lead. We are not far. Heimdall has done his job well, as per usual."

She started to walk, and the rest of us trod her footsteps in single file. It was a merciless struggle, trudging through the knee-high snow. To my fortune, I was able to trail behind Volstagg; the voluminous warrior essentially plowed a path for me and everyone in tow.

As we ventured up and down the wintery slopes of Nidavellir, battling the winds and the ice, I could've sworn I heard Fandral grumbling unhappily behind me. The gale was too harsh my ears to decipher his words, something I counted as a blessing.

Several minutes into our expedition, a shiver danced down my spine. The temperature seemed to be dropping. Under the increasingly perilous conditions, my protection spell could no longer ward all the cold away. At best, I was able to fend off the brunt of its chilly bite and ensure that my friends and I would not freeze to death.

Our journey took us across the open hills of Nidavellir, a rolling terrain of endless snow. It wasn't long before we reached the foot of a mountain—so drenched in snowfall was the sky, we did not see the rock face until we were up close. Sif seemed certain of where we were going, and, without preamble, we began our climb. A trail had been carved into the mountainside, though it clearly hadn't been travelled by in a very long time. It was icy and rocky, and we each took turns nearly slipping off the edge; Fandral had to catch me from behind when I came close to falling backwards.

The vey instant our group reached the end of the trail, we all stopped and stared at what we found.

A cavern stood before us, monstrous and imposing. With such a stature, I was sure it rivalled the height of the grand entrance of the Asgardian palace. Its depths darkened the further one looked inside until it was pitch-black. We gawked only for a moment before scurrying into the mouth of the cavern to take shelter from the snow and the bitter gale._ The entryway is so massive_, I mused, _it would be impossible for it be buried beneath snow._

"Is this it?" Thor asked, tugging down his hood.

Sif emulated him and unwrapped her scarf. "Yes, it has to be."

"If this is the right place, how could the sword have remained untouched for so long?" I asked, moving to hunker down between Sif and Hogun. "Surely someone would have found it already."

"It does raise suspicion. Despite the treacherous climb, the cavern does seem fairly conspicuous," Loki said, earning a curious glance from Sif. "If the sword has not been found already, I suspect there must be something guarding it."

Thor grinned. "Good. It has been far too long since I've had a fine battle."

Expression hardening, Sif strode forward and pulled her spear free from the strap on her back. "Then let us be wary."

Loki walked beside her, an orb of magic in hand to light the way.

The cave was deep, going on for what felt like a mile. I was reminded of the crystal cavern in Alfheim, except this passage was smooth and circular rather than craggy and full of stalactites and stalagmites. This one was unnatural, it had to be. Someone had burrowed into the mountain long ago. The walls of the passage were bare, and the only shadows that danced were our own.

I shared a look with Hogun and saw that his eyes held the same trepidation I felt. "I do not like this," he said softly.

"I agree," I replied. "Something doesn't feel right." I sought out Loki and Sif who led us further into the darkness. They were whispering to one another irately.

"Look!" Thor said suddenly. "Do you see that?" He pointed towards a figure lying on the ground a short ways ahead.

We approached, our steps slow and cautious. My gaze never wavered from the shadowed form; it wasn't moving, but that did not mean it was harmless. On either side of me, Loki and Sif seemed just as wary, scanning our surroundings carefully. There was no knowing what sort of things could be hidden within the walls or under the stone beneath out feet. The thought of walking into a trap made my heart leap into my throat.

Upon reaching the darkened figure without incident, I all but sighed in relief. Peering down at the motionless shape, I saw that it was a dwarf. He was dead—had been for quite some time now. He was frozen through and through, icicles clinging to his forehead and his thick, wiry beard.

"Do you suppose he froze to death?" Fandral asked, crouching beside the corpse.

I frowned and glanced away, unnerved by the sight of the body. I had seen my fair share of death in the house of healing, but none so past their expiration. As I turned from the deceased dwarf, I spotted a peculiar collection of items a short distance from where we stood. "What are those?" I murmured. Pacing nearer to them, I knelt to take a closer look.

Loki trailed after me while I took stock of two swords, a shield, and an axe. "No one carries so many weapons," he remarked.

"Was he slain?" Volstagg said. "He looks virtually unharmed."

"Poison, perhaps?" Sif suggested. She referred to me with a glance.

"It is possible." I nodded, chancing a look at the corpse. My stomach roiled, but I kept on. "A fast acting poison leaves no outward trace. Most likely jorgandr venom." I couldn't help glimpsing in Loki's direction. He raised a brow in return. "He couldn't have frozen to death. He's heavily insulated; the cold within this cave could not have killed him."

"I would hardly call it a cave," Sif commented. "This is a tunnel. Someone made this tunnel."

"Yes, there is no doubting that," Loki said. I blinked in surprise when he held out a hand to help me to my feet. I accepted his assistance and stood. "Someone has been luring foolhardy adventurers here." He gave Sif a pointed look, which she effortlessly ignored.

"This dwarf couldn't have been alone," Fandral observed. "Two swords, a shield, and an axe? Those can't all be his."

We fell into a speculative silence. Something terrible had befallen the dwarf and whatever companions he might've had, and it could very well befall us too. I frowned and considered our options. If we pressed forward, we could be walking into a trap. If we turned back now, we would've come all this way for nothing. And Sif would not stand for that; she would not see effort wasted.

It was Thor who broke the disquiet, "We must discover who is drawing people into this cave. If they have laid a trap for us, we shall meet them head on. They have already lost the element of surprise."

"We know not what the trap is," Loki countered. "We don't even know who or what it is that awaits us."

"Brother, I say we continue forth," Thor said with finality. Frowning, Loki lowered his gaze and did not dispute him again. "If it is a fight they seek, then it is a fight they shall receive."

Thor marched forward with an equally fervent Sif in tow—though I believed her eagerness stemmed from finding Drekisbane and not the idea of walking blindly into a trap. The remainder of us exchanged wary looks before following.

Deeper into the mountain, the passage went. The farther we walked, the brighter it grew, and we were soon able to see even without the aid of Loki's magic. No one spoke as the tunnel began to widen, like a cone, until it could no longer be called a tunnel. I stiffened, my eyes flickering in all directions when we strode into a breathtakingly enormous cavern.

The inside of the cave was illuminated, as if we were standing outside. Craning my neck, I surveyed our surroundings. The chamber was taller than any room I'd ever seen, taller than even the entrance hall of Asgard. Two rooms the size of the palace library could've fit inside, one atop the other. The ceiling curved upwards, peaking in the very centre where there lay an opening. Sunlight poured in from somewhere above, along with trickles of snow.

We trod forward cautiously, the ground becoming uneven beneath our feet. The cavern itself was naturally formed, but there was no doubt someone had made the tunnel from which we'd come. _For what purpose?_ I wondered. _Why would they wish to trap those seeking Drekisbane?_ Other than a few rocks and enough ice to fill a lake, the cavern appeared otherwise empty.

"This was a terrible idea," Fandral muttered at my left.

"Do not fret, Fandral," Sif said. "We must deal with whatever trap may have been laid. For the sake of anyone who follows."

I remained close to Sif, Fandral and Hogun as we walked. We kept our wide and wary eyes on everything around us, though I saw nothing threatening in our surroundings. I could hear only the screeching of the wind far above and the scuffing of our boots against the ice and stone.

"Loki, Volstagg. With me," Thor murmured in the quiet. Intent on searching further, Thor, Loki and Volstagg parted from our group of four to cover more ground.

Fandral was ready to object to this, "I think we should stay—"

His words were left unfinished when a large net came flying our way. Fandral reacted far more quickly than the rest of us. He unsheathed his sword and slashed the rope trap clean in half before it could make its landing. The pieces went tumbling apart, falling into two heaps.

Breath caught in my throat, I glanced over at Thor, Loki and Volstagg to see them momentarily pinned beneath a net of their own. Loki drew one of his daggers and swiftly cut them free before throwing the blade in the direction from which the net had come. He did this all so quickly in a single motion that I couldn't quite comprehend what he'd done at first.

The furious roar that followed chilled me to the bone. Each of us straightened at the sound, our heads swivelling to search the cavern for the source. Fandral jerked on my wrist to bring me closer, placing me between Hogun and himself.

Then they came striding out, their footsteps shaking the very ground beneath us. They'd been hiding behind and underneath boulders and within the crevices in the walls. Over a dozen of them stood, towering above us, larger than even Thor. Their bodies were covered in hair from head to toe. Furs and leather armour adorned their shoulders, which made them look even bulkier and hardier.

"Rock trolls," Sif growled.

With snarls on their lips, they leapt towards us, spears and swords in hand. Fear immediately coursed through me, and I cried out in surprise when Fandral pulled me back further. "Stay behind me," he said. "You have nothing to fear with me here." I caught the flippant smile he cast my way before he struck at the nearest rock troll.

I stood with my back to his while several of the enormous brutes surrounded us. I could see their grins, even under all that hair. They looked at us as though they'd found some great treasure.

A troll armed with a spear made his move first, and I threw up a barrier to block his attack. So strong he was, my shield broke in a single dash. Before I could panic, Fandral whirled around me and stabbed the troll in the chest.

The triumphant laugh died on Fandral's lips when the troll did not fall. "Duck!" Fandral shouted, and we both crouched low to the ground, barely evading the rock troll that swung at us from behind.

With us trapped amidst three trolls, I felt the hysteria rise within me. I didn't know what to do. My magic barriers would not hold against their might, and I had no other armament with which to defend myself.

Just as one was about to impale me with his sword, a dagger came soaring through the air and embedded itself deeply in the troll's neck. The creature fell dead before me, blood spilling across the ground. I felt nauseated at the very sight.

I threw a glimpse in the direction the dagger had come to catch Loki gracing me with a nod. In the blink of an eye, he returned to battle at Thor's side.

Fandral and I stood with two trolls looming on either side of us now. The spear-wielder was the first to react after his comrade's death. I mustered all my strength and blocked his thrust, staggering backwards from the force of it moments prior to the fading of my shield. Fandral took the chance to plunge his sword in the troll's jugular.

I turned to face the final troll that advanced towards us only to watch as Sif pierced him straight through the heart from behind. When Hogun smashed him in the head with his spiked mace, I couldn't suppress a wince. The troll crumpled to the ground in a dead heap.

Scanning the cavern, I took a rapid tally of who remained. As it stood, we outnumbered the trolls; a mere half a dozen were left alive. They seemed to realize this just as quickly, and, with a savage screech, they fled the cave without looking back.

Thor and Volstagg cheered as they disappeared into the passage, the shadows swallowing their woolly forms. I, on the other hand, leaned forward and braced my hands on my knees to catch my breath. The use of my magic still exhausted me, much to my dismay. Not to mention the violence and gore left me unnerved. I had seen much in the house of healing, but to see the taking of a life made me quiver.

"Are you alright?" Fandral asked softly. I felt his hand on my shoulder.

Nodding, I stood upright. "Yes. Thank you, Fandral."

"Is anyone injured?" Sif said, glancing all around.

"Just a small flesh wound." Thor held out his arm. There was a long cut on the back of his hand, trailing into a scratch that travelled up his metal bracer. I was rather surprised to see the Mighty Thor injured at all; he was typically considered the hardiest of Aesir. "Those trolls are repulsive, vicious creatures. Stronger than I believed they would be. But not strong enough!"

I had to stifle a laugh. Even with an injury—minor as it was—he could not refrain from voicing his boasts. Tenderly laying my hands on his arm, I closed my eyes and let the magic flow freely through my fingers. The laceration closed slowly and was soon replaced by a rather angry looking red line. "Thankfully it wasn't deep," I remarked. Had the cut been deep enough to sever blood vessels and muscle, I wouldn't have been able to heal the wound.

Thor beamed down at me. "Many thanks, my friend."

Volstagg paced around us, carefully considering the cavern as if to make sure the trolls were in fact all gone. "What do you suppose those rock trolls were doing here?"

"Luring people into a trap to take them as slaves," Loki answered. He turned one of the dead trolls over with the toe of his boot. "Although I don't believe they were the ones to dig the passage. Far too precise for them."

Sif sidled past Thor and me, her steps light as she stared straight ahead. "Can you see that?" she said, pointing some ways before her.

We followed her line of sight to see a block of ice sitting directly beneath the cavern opening. From our distance it was difficult to discern its features, especially with the sun shining so strongly upon it. Tentative, I walked in Sif's footsteps. I drew as near as I would dare, coming to a halt at the rim of what I soon discovered to be a bottomless pit.

The mysterious block of ice was set atop a platform, one that hovered in the centre of the pit. The only things supporting the strange dais were the branch-like protrusions of stone reaching for the sides of the cavity's edge. Inching closer, I could distinguish something frozen within the ice. Something shiny and golden. And I knew Sif wasn't going to let an unsoundly sustained rock stop her from retrieving it.

There was only one way to cross the deep, dark chasm: a bridge of rock and ice no more than a yard in width. Sif and I stood at one end, eyeing it with uncertainty.

"Perhaps I should be the one to cross," Thor offered, peering over the edge and into the abyss.

"No, you would be too heavy," Sif said. The pout on Thor's face would've made me giggle if I hadn't started envisioning my friends falling into the bottomless pit. "I will go alone. Everyone stand back, I fear the ground here has not been trod upon before."

I stepped back, regarding the bridge uneasily. I wanted to speak out and tell Sif not to attempt the crossing, but her feet were already on the deplorable bridge by the time I found my voice. She shuffled across, arms held out on either side of her to maintain balance.

With every step, pebbles and powdery snow were swept off the sides. I winced and watched them fall into the endless dark below. I prayed to the Norns that Sif would reach the other side safely, but it brought me little comfort. My heart remained firmly stuck in my throat, racing as though I were the one traipsing over the abyss.

When she was halfway across, I was about ready to let out a sigh of relief. But whatever relief I might've experienced was extremely short-lived.

The first thing I heard was the _crack_ of ice and rock, sharp and loud like the snap of thunder. Beside me, Thor started, obviously having heard it too.

Then the rock beneath Sif gave way.

Shouting her name, I threw out my hands in desperation. With every last ounce of energy I still had within me, I enveloped her in a barrier, suspending her in midair. Painful as it was, I forced myself to sustain the spell. My head pounded furiously, a loud ringing echoing in my ears. I grit my teeth, trying with all my might to draw her back from the depths.

But I wasn't strong enough.

My magic failed. Black spots pranced across my vision. I was conscious long enough to perceive Thor diving for Sif, one hand outstretched, Mjolnir clutched tightly in the other. Darkness overwhelmed me, and the last thing I felt was someone wrapping their arms around my waist, tugging me from the brink of the chasm that crumbled beneath me.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Boom, literal cliffhanger (sort of).

As per usual, I'd like to thank my splendid beta, **Hr'awkryn**. My thanks also to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and followed.

Please review! Every little comment warms my heart.


	13. Lying in Wait

**THIRTEEN**

* * *

_lying in wait_

* * *

Minutes passed while I swam in the dark. The rush of blood was loud in my ears—a roaring river and little more. For a moment, it felt like I was falling into the endless abyss, the void at the end of the Bifrost. Falling. Falling with nothing to break my fall.

Then, slowly, as my awareness was restored to me, sensation returned to my body. My hands felt heavy, immovable at first. My toes were numb, my eyelids locked shut. But I could hear voices. Voices speaking in concerned tones. It was oddly reassuring.

A soothingly cool hand caressed the side of my face, brushing away errant strands of hair. The hand belonged to the person who pulled me from the edge seconds before the ground fell away from my feet. I was certain of it. Their touch was comforting.

"Eirlys?"

"Eirlys."

Swallowing dryly, I pried open my eyes to see the blurred outline of Sif leaning over me. Once I blinked away the shadows marring my sight, my gaze darted to the figure kneeling opposite her: Loki. He heaved a sigh of relief and drew his hand away from my brow. It had been he who hauled me from the brink.

"She awakens!" Thor's cheer sounded oddly faraway to my ears.

"Thank the Norns," Sif breathed, grasping my shoulders. She brought me into a hug, and I could discern the rest of our company hovering behind her; Thor and the Warriors Three beamed down at me with equal relief. I managed a tremulous smile when she pulled away. "Are you alright, Eirlys?" I nodded faintly, and she let out a small, incredulous laugh. "You have my utmost gratitude. If it weren't for your magic, Thor wouldn't have reached me in time."

I made to speak and found that I could not; my throat was dry and sore like I'd swallowed mouthfuls of sand. Loki seemed to notice. "Here," he muttered, handing me a waterskin.

His eyes connected with mine as he lifted my head, his fingers threading through my hair. I took the pouch from him and drank liberally before handing it back. I cleared my throat, but my voice came out as nothing more than a scratchy whisper, "Is everyone alright? You are not harmed, Sif?"

"Everyone is alright." Sif grinned at me. "Except you, of course."

"I am fine." A sudden spinning sensation overcame me. I lay my head back on the ground, blinking away a few dark spots. "Well, in a few moments I shall be fine."

Sif patted my shoulder and looked towards Loki. "Stay with her." He made no reply as she stood and gestured for the rest of our group to follow her. "Give her a moment to rest."

She strode off, out of my sight, along with everyone else. I regarded Loki curiously while he helped me sit upright, his fingers splayed on my back. "Is she still trying for the sword?" I asked, attempting not to shiver at the feel of his hands on me.

Loki nodded. "They're making a harness for her now." We looked over to see Thor and the Warriors Three pulling apart the rope nets in order to knot them back together in a single line. "We should've done so in the first place. But of course, in her enthusiasm, Sif walked right into it without thinking."

I laughed softly. "I am beginning to see that this is a habit among our friends."

He gave me a wry look before gradually helping me to my feet. It was slow-going at first; my legs were made of jelly, and there was too much blood rushing to my head, but I managed. "You reacted quite quickly," he said. "Even with the ground falling from beneath you."

"I... I did." Licking my dry lips, I glanced over to where I'd been standing near the edge of the fissure. Much of the bridge had crumbled away, including some of the rock that lead up to it—that was where I'd been mere moments before darkness overwhelmed me. "What happened to me? I just remember... fainting."

"You expended more energy than you should have," he told me, "until your body could no longer bear it."

With a shaky breath, I nodded. "Well, it was worth it."

I watched Thor and the Warriors Three fasten their newly fashioned harness around Sif's waist. After several sharp tugs to ensure that the rope was secure, she began inching her way towards the bridge again. One of her hands gripped the line for dear life as she stepped onto the narrow crossing, which had only been made narrower by her prior fall.

This time she passed over without any real incident. Halfway across, she'd nearly lost her footing for a split second, but she regained her balance just as swiftly. Upon reaching the rock platform, she walked atop it slowly and tentatively to make certain it remained steady. The dais did not give way beneath her. Arms outstretched, she approached the block of ice perched in the heart of the cavern.

From where I stood, clutching onto Loki's arm for balance, I watched her chip away at the sleet and the frost, freeing what was trapped within. Once most of the ice was piled at her feet, she wrested free the metal that had been imprisoned for what might've been centuries, maybe even millennia. With gloved hands, she held the weapon aloft—still covered with hoarfrost—and wrapped it in her leather satchel.

She returned over the bridge, employing the same speed and caution as before. When she stood before us, she let out the breath she'd apparently been holding. "Let us depart from this wretched place," she said impatiently. "I cannot stand to—"

As if in response to her disparaging words, a gut-wrenching roar resounded in the cavern. I lurched backwards, only to have Loki catch me round the waist. Trembling, I searched the cavern for the source of such a howl. I scrutinized the holes in the walls and the ceiling, all of them perfectly round and smooth, identical to the tunnel through which we entered. "What do you suppose that was?" I murmured to Loki.

"Something decidedly unpleasant," he replied. I glanced up at him to see that his regard was trained on the same perforations I had taken notice of. His face seemed to pale. "We should go. Immediately."

The rest of our company silently agreed, and we began backing away from the chasm. When everything started quaking, Loki tugged on my arm, practically dragging me backwards. At the sound of another animalistic cry, everyone turned and ran for the exit. The tremors grew as the cavern ceiling rained rocks and icicles down upon us. Just ahead, I saw Sif somersault to the side, avoiding a plummeting stalactite that would've split her skull if she'd been a second too late.

Another monstrous roar echoed through the cavern, and I swore I could feel it shaking the ground beneath me. Then, just a dozen paces from the exit, we froze, our gazes locked on the shady figure slithering from the crevices above. It came from the shadows, its black scales glinting in the light as it descended upon us.

A jorgandr—fully grown, no less.

The serpent coiled downwards, blocking our path with its massive body. I'd read much about jorgandr snakes: fifty feet in length, a cranium the size of a stallion, scales as hard as plate armour, and fangs that could pierce a person straight through. If one somehow managed to survive being bitten, they would succumb to the snake's venom in a matter of seconds. Even though I'd only seen sketches in a book, I'd been quite thoroughly terrified of the jorgandr ever since. But this was no book. This was much worse.

Forked tongue sliding between its fangs, the snake watched us, its gleaming eyes like two large sapphires bearing down on us.

"Oh Norns," Fandral muttered. "And here I was thinking the day could not get any worse."

The jorgandr let out an unnerving screech and rushed towards us, its gigantic maw open and ready to devour. Before it could get near enough, Thor leapt forth and delivered a mighty blow to the side of its head. The serpent shrieked, swerving left and right as if to shake away the pain.

"RUN!" Thor bellowed.

None of us hesitated to do as he said. We ran beneath the giant snake, its body writhing madly as it fought to regain its bearings. Once we were within the confines of the tunnel, Loki left my side and turned back towards his brother. "Thor!" he called. "Come on!"

Over my shoulder, I could see Thor smashing into the jorgandr's head again. Winding up Mjolnir, he shouted, "Brother! GO!"

Sif came towards me and grasped both my arms. "Worry not for them. Thor and Loki can handle themselves."

Blinking, I nodded and followed after her. As we went, I glanced behind and, much to my relief, spotted Loki close behind, lighting the way ahead. Thor trailed a little ways after him with the jorgandr close on his heels.

We went careening through the tunnel, a great cacophony echoing all around us. A terrified scream became trapped in my throat. I knew not if the jorgandr was gaining on us. I was too afraid to find out.

In the darkness, I stumbled, my legs weak and clumsy. Sif came to my aid and stayed nearby as we kept pace, hurtling down the sloping innards of the mountain.

The passage seemed to be caving in around us; the jorgandr must have been crashing into the walls in its frantic attempt to chase us down. My heart pounded painfully and my lungs burned as I ran faster than ever before. If I could have, I would've let out a cry of joy when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

Upon tumbling from the cave and into the snow, we turned to seek out Thor and the jorgandr. But there was nothing behind us. Nothing but the ominous rumble of the cavern collapsing within.

"No," Sif whispered. "Where is he?"

I breathed in the cold air, its chill making my lungs ache even more. But I took no notice while I watched the entrance, unblinking, and awaited Thor's escape.

Then a figure came flying out of the cave, Mjolnir in hand.

Thor landed, skidding in the sleet before us, showering Volstagg in powdery snow. He rose, looking into the dark depths he'd soared from. Rocks cascaded down from the mountain, gathering at the foot of the cavern entrance, the very one I believed could never be buried by snow. I had never considered that it could be buried by the mountain itself.

The jorgandr came wriggling from the shadow, intent on killing. But its hunt soon came to an end. The tunnel fell atop it, stones battering its head and crushing its winding body until it was half-buried within the mountain. It let out a final wail before a boulder cracked its skull, silencing it forever.

We stood stock-still with nothing but the sound of the howling wind filling our ears. The blizzard had died down during our venture into the cavern; only the occasional snowflake drifted downward to stick to my eyelashes now. In the quiet cold, we stared at the bloodied jorgandr as if expecting it to rear up once more. It never did.

"Remind me to never come along on one of your adventures again," Fandral said to Sif.

I pressed a hand to my chest, inhaling deeply to catch my breath. When I exchanged a look with Sif close beside me, we simply burst out laughing. We were hysterical, bent at the waist, clutching our sides. I couldn't believe we'd found Drekisbane, nearly died, encountered a jorgandr, and still survived unscathed.

As soon as our ridiculous laughter subsided and our wits were regained, Sif slowly approached the jorgandr. She crouched before the creature, the height of its head taller than her as she did so. "What in the Nine Realms was a jorgandr doing in that cavern?"

"Protecting Drekisbane?" Thor suggested.

Fandral shrugged. "For what reason? To kill those who seek it?"

"It is of no consequence, for it is dead," Volstagg said. "And I cannot bear to look at it a moment longer."

"Afraid of a dead snake, Volstagg?" Fandral asked.

"Perhaps I am," Volstagg replied. "What I may fear more is this cold. I would very much like to return home. I am chilled enough to the bone." He straightened his cloak, pulling it more tightly around himself. "And I am feeling a little peckish."

"No, you don't say," Fandral quipped.

Heeding Volstagg's entreaty, we took a brief respite before starting our trek back to Asgard. Our footsteps from earlier had already vanished beneath the falling snow, but Sif seemed to know the way by heart. Without having to combat the winds, the walk to the Bifrost site proved much easier than the walk to the cavern. Upon reaching our destination, we huddled together atop the rune—after some digging—and Heimdall promptly called us home.

Later, when Asgard was basked in the eventide—long after we'd shed our winter clothes and took lengthy hot baths—I sagged onto the couch in the sitting chamber we most often frequented. Head leaning against the armrest, I stretched out my legs and arms, groaning in satisfaction. In the centre of the room sat a triangular hearth, the coals burning hotly. I closed my eyes and revelled in its warmth, banishing the odd chill that seemed to cling to my skin long after we left Nidavellir.

Sif stood before us, admiring the newly freed weapon balanced carefully in her hands. It had taken much effort to melt and chip away the remaining ice, but she accomplished her task with much pride. "The mighty Drekisbane," she murmured lovingly. Without preamble, she unfurled the blades with a quick turn of her hands.

Thor and the Warriors Three gathered round to admire the legendary weapon. It glimmered in the firelight, its narrow blades polished and sharp. "A thing of true beauty," Fandral said with an appreciative eye. "I will admit that much."

"I suspect it's strong enough to pierce through steel. It could've killed that jorgandr, no doubt," Sif remarked, lifting the double-bladed staff to observe it more closely. I was quite astonished to see the weapon in such fine condition after so many centuries—true dwarven craftsmanship, that was guaranteed.

"Perhaps even strong enough to pierce the armour of the Destroyer," Thor commented.

Volstagg guffawed. "That is absurd, nothing can pierce through the Destroyer."

While Thor and Volstagg began to debate how tough Drekisbane truly was, Sif knelt at my side with a smile. I returned her good spirits, albeit a little wearily. I felt as though I hadn't slept in days, so drained was my energy from the use of magic—as well as having to run for my life at speeds I did not normally prescribe myself. "I am glad we found Drekisbane," I told her. "Though I am beginning to wonder if a life of adventure is truly for me."

"You best become accustomed to it," Sif replied, her eyes dancing. I could only chuckle in response. "I wish to express my gratitude again. There is... well, I suppose no words can truly convey how grateful I am." Using her free hand, she pulled me into an embrace.

With my chin on her shoulder, I blinked in surprise at her show of affection. "I am thankful I could help," I said. "Although my pounding head protests otherwise."

Sif drew away and stood, grasping Drekisbane with both hands. "I owe your pounding head my life," she said wryly. "Now, if I may have your pardon, I shall begin practicing with my new blade."

I nodded to her. "Indeed, it is a fit companion for the finest warrior maiden in the Nine Realms."

With a soft snort of laughter, she patted my shoulder before sweeping across the room to challenge Fandral to a duel.

Though it was a bit of a struggle, I managed to push myself up further to press my back against the armrest. Pulling my legs to my chest, I rested my chin upon my knees and fell into a doze. With every passing second, keeping my eyes open proved increasingly difficult.

It was then that Loki approached and lowered himself into the seat my legs had previously occupied. At his arrival, I sat a little straighter, blinking away the drowsiness. He peered into the fire that lay before us, his drooping shoulders making him look almost as weary as I felt.

A long stretch of silence passed before he lifted his head to regard me. In the soft firelight, his eyes seemed a deep green. "You did well today," Loki said. "You've shown much improvement."

My brow rose, and I had to refrain from goading him. To have him admit that I had done something well was novel. After all of his ridicule, I wanted nothing more than to tease him for his flattering words, but I thought it best not to. Instead, I savoured the surge of pride budding within me. "Thank you, Loki," I replied. "That means much to me."

"Of course, fainting every time you use magic could prove somewhat of an issue," Loki added. I gave him a pointed look; he always seemed to find some way to diminish a compliment. "Nevertheless, there is no denying that you did well."

Breathing in deeply, I turned in my seat to rest my feet flat on the ground. "I wish to... to thank you for pulling me back from the edge of that chasm." I bowed my head as I spoke. "I would have been lost to the depths of Nidavellir if you hadn't."

"You needn't thank me," he replied.

"Yet you have my thanks."

He smiled at me then. And it made my heart swell.

* * *

**Author's Note**: As per usual, I extend my thanks to my brilliant beta, **Hr'awkryn**. And, of course, my appreciations goes to everyone who reviewed, favourited, or followed.

Don't forget to review :)


	14. That Which Lies Before Us

**FOURTEEN**

* * *

_that which lies before us_

* * *

Loki's name day came to pass with little fanfare, though I suspected he preferred it that way. In contrast to the physical exhibitions that took place during Thor's name day, musical concerts were held in Loki's honour. Under the afternoon sun, in one of the courtyards, there was a full orchestral concert. A harpist serenaded us during the banquet, and a quartet played for us late in the evening.

The thought that Loki had such a vast appreciation for music brought me great amusement. Just as I had found it unusual to see him in the garden below my balcony, it seemed a peculiarity that he had such a deep appreciation artistic expression. He didn't often appear to relish much of anything so indifferent he often seemed. But it was clear he had a love for art and aesthetics. And reading, definitely reading.

The evening quartet finished their fourth piece to the sound of vigorous applause. In the grand hall, the audience had been arranged around the central platform upon which the quartet had been placed. Rising from my seat, I joined in with the acclaim as they bowed and took their leave for the intermission.

Sif was seated beside me, appearing rather lovely and regal in her cranberry coloured gown. She carried herself with a grace befitting that of a warrior and a lady when she too got to her feet. "Shall we retrieve refreshments?" she asked. "Or will you stay?"

"I am going out to the terrace for some much needed air," I told her. "Will you be here when I return?"

"I imagine Thor and Volstagg will be dragging me away to drink immeasurable amounts of ale with them," Sif replied regretfully. "They have never been fond of musical performance. Thus, I may or may not make a reappearance."

I laughed lightly. "Then I shall see you in due course, whether it be tonight or on the morrow."

She repaid my smile with her one of own before I lifted the hem of my sheer golden skirts and made my way across the room. Most of the spectators had stood and gathered around in small groups to speak nothing but praise for the quartet. Humming airily, I wove my way through the crowd and stepped out onto the terrace.

The night breeze was pleasantly cool against my skin. I took a deep breath of refreshing air and revelled in the sound of the Asgardian waters churning in the distance. My elation was cut short when the sound of a sickly sweet voice drifted to my ears.

"Do you not have any intention to marry, Prince Loki?"

With a frown, I glanced towards the opposite end of the terrace, leaning round several other courtiers to find the source of the voice. I spotted Loki standing at the balustrade where he was being pestered by one of the Simpletons Three—the blond one. Brynlar, I believed her name was.

"You never relent, do you?" he asked in return. Even from where I stood, I could see him employing that well-practiced blank stare.

Brynlar smiled and sipped from her crystal flute of ice wine. "I would be remiss if I did," she said, her eyes drifting down his form. "I know Afildys does not have the most... amiable tongue. I merely hoped you would not find that fault in me."

I fought to maintain a genial expression while I meandered towards them. Loki noticed my approach first, but he said nothing, even as I neared. "My apologies for interrupting." As soon as I spoke, the blond maiden whirled on me, eyes narrowed; she otherwise kept her distaste for me subtle. "I have been meaning to seek a private word with Prince Loki," I said. "I am certain you understand how difficult it is to acquire a moment with the prince on his name day." Though I kept my regard focussed on Brynlar, I was quite conscious of Loki's visible amusement.

"Yes, I do know, which is why I have seized this opportunity," she replied. "If you don't mind, I would like to finish our conversation."

_She is not heeding my intimations_, I sighed inwardly. "Be that as it may, I am afraid Prince Loki has no interest in finishing your conversation," I stated with a polite smile. "And a well-bred lady always knows when she has overstayed her welcome."

Her nostrils flared, though she maintained her false smile. For an instant, I thought she was going to fire back an unkind rejoinder, but she would not dare say a word in Loki's presence. Instead, she merely curtsied to him and turned her back to me before striding off. Her best insult thus far was not delivering a mannerly parting.

With a uncomfortable heat travelling along my neck, I dared to look at Loki. He simply lifted a brow. "I'm surprised at you," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Am I not the one who rescues you from her and her ilk?"

"I believe it was my turn to ward them away." Smiling vaguely, I leaned on the balustrade, the bronze surface chilling my bare skin. "Her opinion of me cannot worsen, that I am sure of. She is a schemer who believes I am scheming." Some part of me was oddly troubled by the thought that she and her friends might've hated me, but I brushed it aside.

His brow furrowed with a sort of curiosity. "What was that you said to her about well-bred ladies?"

I held back a sigh, instead putting on a dry smile. "I have had many a tutor in my lifetime. Lady Svana was my instructor in propriety, modesty, and grace—how to be a well-bred lady."

He turned and rested his elbows on the railing beside me. "And knowing when you've overstayed your welcome was among her lessons?"

"It was," I replied, nodding mildly. "My father thought it was very important, courtesy and decorum. They were meant to be the most important lessons I would ever learn. But I fear Lady Svana's teachings did not have a lasting effect."

"Obviously not."

Biting back a laugh, I gave him a sideways glance. "And what of Brynlar?" My nose scrunched at the very thought of her. "Was she offering you... inappropriate things?"

Loki looked to be on the verge of mocking my complete inability to phrase the question, but he abstained from doing so, thankfully. "If you are asking whether she was proposing to join me in my bed, the answer is yes," he replied plainly. I could feel my ears burning. "This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last."

Chagrinned, I studied the darkness of the water beyond and cleared my throat. "I suppose Thor has been subjected to this as well."

"More so." Loki nodded. "In fact, I fear he has already lain with the least courteous of those three maidens—Afildys, isn't it?"

The choking cough that I issued forth could not be subdued. "By the Norns," I muttered. "That is far more information than I would ever care to know about Thor's affairs."

"They seek an advantage, so it seems," Loki remarked.

"What do you mean?" I tilted my head. "You think one of them wants to be a princess of Asgard?"

"Don't most maidens dream of becoming a princess?"

The suggestion, especially coming from him, made me snort with laughter. "Well, that is a frightful thought. Could you imagine one of those simpletons becoming Asgardian royalty?"

There was a most amusing wryness in his expression. "A frightful thought indeed."

I tilted my head in consideration. "Then I did you a favour, fending her off. Does this mean, perhaps, that my debt for your tutelage is repaid?"

At that, he laughed outright. "Your debt to me is worth far more than that. I was repelling her perfectly well on my own."

"Well, it was worth an ask."

"Though I must admit that it was worth something," he said, angling his body towards me. "To see that your tongue is sharpening was a gift in itself."

Stomach fluttering, I licked my lips. "Then consider it your name day gift." Our gazes met; his eyes appeared dark in the Asgardian night. "Happy name day, Loki."

* * *

_"Let's do a headcount here: your brother, the demigod; a super soldier, a living legend who kinda lives up to the legend; a man with breathtaking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins; oh, and there's your ex, the princess—I can kinda see why she left you."_

_"You know not what you speak of."_

_"Don't I? Clearly you've completely fallen off the deep end. And let me tell you, she is not happy about it. At all. In fact, you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single member of our merry little band."_

_"That was the plan."_

_"Not a great plan. When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."_

I jolted awake with a gasp.

My heart thundered in my chest, aching with a strange sense of despair. Those voices... one was unfamiliar, the other I knew in my heart: the dark figure. Pressing my hands to my forehead, I strived to focus on the dream, to remember the sounds of their voices, anything I could recall. But they slowly faded, swirling and disappearing like a puff of smoke in the air. Along with their voices went their words. Seconds elapsed, and soon I could no longer remember any of what had been said.

Quivering uncontrollably, I dragged my hands through my hair and swung my legs over the side of my bed. Any detail I might've grasped merely slipped through the cracks of my mind. All that remained was the dark sense of foreboding—the feeling that something terrible was going to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

With a heavy sigh, I rose and readied myself for the day. As I had once promised the All-Father, I resolved to tell Frigga all that I could about my vision. I could do little more than hope that she might be able to shed light on the darkness that endured in my mind.

My pace remained sluggish throughout the morning, but I met with the queen in the healing room on time. My lessons in the library were ended, and I had moved on from lectures to begin my practicum. We agreed to focus on my healing magic, although I continued to fear my capacity for it would never match that of the other healers.

"You look as though you've seen the spirits of your long deceased ancestors," Frigga said upon my arrival. She stood by the bedside of an Einherjar guard—training accident, nothing serious. She touched my cheek, her hand warm against my chilled skin. "Did you have another vision?"

Though her intuition surprised me a little, I managed a nod. "It slips away every time I wake, like sand through my fingers. But I feel it still. It weighs on my mind. Whomever I dream of... a great darkness surrounds him."

"I am sorry," she said. "I understand the torment you suffer. Not knowing, not being able to stop it."

"What can we do?" I questioned. "Do we just... push it from our minds?"

"Unfortunately, it's all we can do."

Even after I told her what I could remember about the vision, my distress did not lessen. As per Frigga's suggestion, I endeavoured to propel the vision from my mind, to occupy my thoughts with anything and everything else. But the dread remained implanted firmly in my heart as I carried on with my day. I spent the afternoon reading one of the many books in my sitting chamber. Or I tried to, at least.

My spirits were low and stayed that way. Not even attending a fine supper with my friends could lighten my mood. Sitting at the table in our private dining room, I watched as everyone laughed heartily at one of Volstagg's stories. With the gloom so deeply seated within me, I found that I could not laugh. I couldn't even smile.

Here were my friends, lively, happy and laughing. Nothing horrible had beset us. I tried to convince myself that to worry about what the future held was to worry about the death of a star. There was nothing anyone could do to change it or stop it. It was the nature of things, no matter how destructive it could be. I kept telling myself these things over and over again. Yet my mind refused to cooperate.

"Eirlys, you have been so glum all day," Thor suddenly observed.

I could feel all eyes on me at once, even as I continued to toy with the partially eaten food on my platter. Swallowing dryly, I glanced up at him. "Just... trouble sleeping."

Thor nodded, bestowing me with a sympathetic smile. In turn, Sif and the Warriors Three launched into a conversation bemoaning the curse of troubled sleep—a common occurrence when embarking on all sorts of daunting adventures. The only one who said nothing was Loki. He simply looked at me, seeming rather unconvinced. Of course, the God of Mischief and Lies could see through my falsehoods. But he never remarked upon it.

I had never told any of them about my visions. I recalled with such clarity the abject concern they showed in the wake of Queen Frigga's vision. I didn't want to cause undue distress with visions I could not even begin to understand.

"Perhaps you would accompany me to the market on the morrow?" Sif offered. "I always find a nice outing gives me peace of mind."

After a moment, I managed a small laugh. "A nice outing? One devoid of situations involving near death, I hope."

She grinned somewhat abashedly. "I cannot make any promises."

"Might I come along?" Fandral asked, leaning into Sif—purposely irritating her, I was sure. "I have been in need of a keen pair of eyes to help me select a fine jewel for a fair maiden I have been hoping to pursue."

Sif feigned outrage. "Another fair maiden? Odin have mercy on the poor girl."

Fandral shot her a withering look. Before he could retort, I saw fit to provide her with my answer, "I will gladly accompany you, Sif. So long as there are no jorgandrs, I am sure we will have a very pleasant venture."

Smiling, Sif looked as though she wanted to say more, but Fandral interjected to pester her about escorting us to the market. As they delved into a quarrel, I shared an exasperated look with the two princes who'd taken heed of the entire disagreement.

When Loki's eyes found mine, a strange chill swept over me. I could feel it... the dark weight that settled in my mind seemed to grow, like a shadow beneath the sun. That sense of foreboding swelled, the fear, as if Loki was the—_No_, I thought, _he couldn't be_. My heart thudded painfully, and I had to grip my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

Our lingering exchange ended when Hogun turned to enquire something of Loki. He looked away, and the shade in my mind faded. My hands stopped quavering and my pulse slowed. I told myself that it meant nothing and the dread of my visions had a way of arising on its own. _My visions are meaningless_, I insisted. _They have nothing to do with Loki whatsoever_.

Then, desperately, I chose to never think about it again.

Early the following morning, I awoke with just a bit more cheer in my heart in spite of the fragmented shadows haunting my every thought. Diligently, I kept my mind occupied with menial tasks: reorganizing books, polishing my mother's old jewellery, sorting my wardrobe. I was on the verge of rearranging the furniture when Sif came to collect me. Without Fandral, it appeared.

Though I had not been often, I maintained a great fondness for the Asgardian market. To travel from the palace to the emporium, one must be able to navigate the wide, meandering avenues of Asgard. I had never been able to find my way there by my lonesome. Sif, on the other hand, had a keen mind for directions. We ventured past the towering statues of ancient Aesir warriors and beneath the vaunted golden arches of the City of the Gods.

While we walked, Sif spoke, rather animatedly, about the new articles of armour she was hoping to acquire. "I think perhaps we should get a full set for you as well."

I squinted at her in the sun's light. "Oh, I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"And a sword!" Sif said, clearly not heeding my protests. When she saw my skeptical look, she smiled. "Is it the lack of propriety you fear, Eirlys? Or the ill opinions?"

"Apparently, I care very little for propriety," I quipped, much to her bewilderement. "But I do have an aversion to... to the disdain." I saw the slight frown pulling at her features. "The courtiers have been unkind to you, have they not? For all these years. How do you weather their words?"

She looked straight ahead, her expression contemplative as we turned a corner onto another road. "It was not easy. Everyone and everything urged me not to become a warrior." There was a certain solemnity in her eye, yet it did not keep her from smiling proudly. "But the thought of not being a warrior was intolerable to me. Sometimes we're meant for certain things, and for me, I knew I was meant to be a warrior. To be anything else would be the death of me. You choose who you want to be, Eirlys, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Her words made me reflect on what sort of person I wanted to be. _What _am_ I meant to become?_ There was a time when I dreamed of becoming a healer, serving alongside Frigga in Asgard's house of healing. But now, I was beginning to believe my talent did not lie with healing magic.

Sif's face lit up when we approached the market. "At last, we have finally arrived."

The market stretched all the way down the long cobblestone avenue, as far as the eye could see. There were a few buildings, squat and gold-hued, sitting along the path. But it was the vendors that made up the vast majority of the market. They lined either side of the road, some tucked between buildings, their vibrantly coloured tents fluttering in the wind like birds' wings. The busy congregation of people hustled from vendor to vendor. Aesir—men, women, and children alike—viewed the merchandise with great enthusiasm, some of them stopping to bargain with the merchants.

"Oh, how I love the liveliness of the market," I gushed, hurrying over to the nearest vendor. The salesman was a Vanir—his bright copper hair gave him away. His wares consisted of dishes, platters, and silverware. "One could spend all day here just looking at everything."

"Or several days," Sif remarked as we moved on.

There were vendors for anything and everything one could ever think of: weapons, armour, clothes, food, books, tools, astronomy instruments, animals—the possibilities were endless. Their sellers shouted and cheered at passersby, holding up all sorts of objects for us to see. They'd come from all across the Nine Realms to find a home for their merchandise.

The armour vendors in the market were especially numerous. They sold gauntlets, greaves, belts, and breastplates of all different designs and all different sizes. Some were simple, some were ostentatious; there was one bejewelled helm that took my breath away. We wandered between the shops, Sif eyeing each of them carefully. One merchant sold several elegantly carved bows—from Alfheim, I did not doubt.

After what had to have been an hour, Sif finally settled on one vendor. The merchant was a dwarf, and, judging by the fine dwarven quality, he was likely also the craftsman. A wide grin overtook his features as we approached, the shine of his teeth peeking through his thick beard. His grin only grew larger when Sif enquired after a pair of bracers, a belt buckle, pauldrons, and a brand new shield. Succeeding a good fifteen minutes of consideration, she purchased them all. He looked just about ready to swoon.

With one last request to have them all sent to her quarters, we parted from the very happy and far wealthier merchant. "I have not seen so much armour in my entire life," I commented as we continued our way down the market road.

Sif beamed. "I feel as though I have gone to Valhalla."

I gave our surroundings a puzzled scan when we continued past the weapons merchants and crossed into the clothing quarter. "I presume you have a mind to make further purchases."

"I am in need of a new gown." The words sounded strange under the circumstances: she'd just purchased an assortment of new armour pieces and was also wearing one of her breastplates—the grass stains indicated some early morning sparring had taken place. "There is one seamstress I particularly favour. We shall pay her shop a visit."

Never being one to forego the opportunity to procure new clothing, I was more than happy to accompany her. "For any specific occasion?"

"For Thor's name day."

My eyes widened. "Norns, how could have I forgotten?" I said with a short laugh. "I have been here over a year now... Sometimes I find it difficult to believe."

Sif hummed thoughtfully. "They say as you grow older, time appears to pass more quickly."

"At our age, I'm surprised several decades haven't flown past in the blink of an eye."

We wove through the ever-moving crowd and made our way towards the shop. It seemed the renowned seamstress occupied one of the few buildings placed along the market avenue. Her establishment was small, at least by Asgardian standards.

When we entered, I looked upon the front room in awe. The ceiling was all glass, allowing the sunshine to pour through. The walls were lined with various fabrics of different shades and sheerness. Some glittered in the midday light, others looked as dark as night itself. "I am always overwhelmed by this chamber," Sif remarked. The two of us walked along the walls, observing the fabrics up close and revelling in their delightfully silky textures.

"Oh, how marvellous it is to see you again, Lady Sif."

A pair of seamstresses appeared from the adjacent room. They scampered across the fabric-strewn chamber to meet us. One was a plump, red-haired matronly woman; the other was a thin, fair-haired maiden. "And you brought a friend! Lady Eirlys, I presume?" The red-haired matron appraised me, scanning my figure from my toes to the tops of my hairs.

I bowed my head. "Yes, I am."

"Of course, for the both of you, there shall be no charge," the plump seamstress declared. I glanced at Sif, but she said nothing. The matron then turned to the young maiden at her side. "Sighild, fetch me my measuring instruments!"

"Yes, Vreyja." The maiden immediately scurried off into the room they'd only just entered from.

"Come, come." Vreyja gestured us over to the wall of fabrics in the corner.

She observed each of us carefully, her eyes darting back and forth and back again. The depth of her concentration rivalled that of those who were about to cast a very complicated spell. Sif made a move to speak, but Vreyja held up her hand to silence her before she could.

"I know exactly what to use," she announced. She turned and pulled on the roll of a thick, silky midnight blue fabric and held it up against Sif's chest. "Perfect." The material sparkled in the light as she shifted it. Like stars in the night sky. "Would you agree, Lady Sif?"

"I put the fate of my attire entirely in your hands," Sif replied.

This made Vreyja grin. "Wonderful, wonderful." She tugged on my hand and drew me across the room to a different set of fabrics. In this section of the room, the various coloured materials were gossamer thin; they were meant to be layered upon one another to create a delicate effect. "Here, this one?"

She held up the sheer cloth. A deep green that reminded me of the forests in Vanaheim. I smiled and nodded. "You have Lady Sif's trust, thus you have mine."

"Just what I wanted to hear," she said. "The colour will go beautifully with your hair. Now, you wait right here."

Vreyja beamed as she bustled away, heading into the other room. Turning, I admired the multitude of sheer fabrics. They felt so soft; I could've just run my hands through them forever.

"I noticed you have been spending much time with Loki of late," Sif said.

I blinked at her, bemused by the unexpected turn in conversation. Verily, I had been in the company of Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three more frequently than not, practicing my skill with a sword. But, every so often, I would seek a quiet afternoon, and I found myself sitting with Loki in the library or the astronomy spire, reading. I had to admit that I was enjoying his company more and more as time went on. "I suppose I have," I replied. "What has prompted this remark?"

She shook her head and went back to appreciating the fabrics. "Nothing at all."

I did not believe her. Sif was not one to blurt such statements without cause. Though I had every intention of questioning her further, the opening of the chamber door drew my regard. To my horror, the Simpletons Three strolled in, heads held high with a haughty air. Sif and I exchanged a knowing look before facing the wall in an attempt to avoid garnering their attention.

Clearing her throat, Sif gave me a sideways glance. "I saw you rescue Loki from Brynlar on his name day."

I knew she wasn't simply going to let the subject drop. "Sif, you are insinuating something, and I am having a difficult time understanding."

"All of this, I say at the behest of Fandral," she told me. "He will not stop pestering me unless I ask." My brow dipped at the thought that Fandral asked her to investigate on his behalf. I supposed it shouldn't have surprised me that he was a gossipmonger. After all, he must've known all there was to know about a number of eligible maidens of the court, and I was no exception. "There has been some speculation about your feelings concerning Loki."

I could feel the skin from my neck to my cheeks warming. "There is nothing—I admire him, that much I have admitted. That is all." Even as I said the words, I knew I was trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince her.

Sif smirked, but did not press any further.

"And what of you, Sif?" I crossed my arms. "Do you hold affections for another?"

I saw her glimpse at her three least favourite maidens in all of Asgard. The brunette, Afildys, was the first to notice our presence. The withering look she gave Sif was enough to make me wilt, so vile it was. But Sif simply returned with a searing glare of her own. Afildys' last response was a smug smile before she rejoined her friends' conversation. It was then that I understood it all very clearly—she was the one who'd lain with Thor, or so Loki claimed.

"Oh." I frowned. "I see."

With the shake of her head, Sif forced a chuff of laughter. "There is nothing to see."

"You... and Thor..." I hushed my tone to ensure the Simpletons Three could not hear a single word. "You knew about her the day we went to Nidavellir... that's why you were so vexed."

She eyed me for a moment before sighing. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you had taken notice."

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be," she said. "I do not feel so strongly for him anymore. Not in many years."

"But it bothers you that he and Afildys..." I trailed off, unwilling to speak so flagrantly in such a public place.

With a snort of humourless laughter, she turned so that her back faced the three maidens. "I think it is Afildys that bothers me, and nothing more."

I managed a smile just as Vreyja came rushing back into the room with Sighild in tow. Without a word, they began measuring our frames at an alarming speed. Once they'd taken our measurements, Vreyja babbled instructions to Sighild about what needed to be done.

As we both stood with our arms outstretched, Sif looked at me. "I am not particularly fond of Loki"—I quirked an eyebrow at the remark—"but if you bear such an affection for him... do not let your chance slip by."

"Sif, there is nothing between us." Clearing my throat, I averted my eyes. "And tell Fandral that he is simply imagining things."

She only shrugged and stared straight ahead while the seamstresses bustled all around us.

And I knew I wasn't fooling anyone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As per usual, my thanks go to everyone who has favourited, followed, and reviewed. To my guest reviewers: just so you know, I greatly appreciate your comments even if I'm unable to respond to you specifically. And, of course, my never-ending gratitude goes to my fabulous beta, **Hr'awkryn**.

Also, I thought I'd give a bit of notice about the next chapter just to avoid any shock or confusion. It'll be a 'bonus' chapter of sorts written in third person from Loki's POV. I figured I might change things up a little and maybe shed a bit of light on what Loki's been thinking throughout all this. Anyway, it'll be fun. Hopefully.

Don't forget to leave a review! I love hearing from you guys.

Until next time


	15. Loki: Smoke and Mirrors

**FIFTEEN**

* * *

_loki: smoke and mirrors_

* * *

The huff of impatience he expelled was likely to be the first of many this day. Like every preceding year, Loki was ready for the day's festivities long before his brother. Of course, Thor had no qualms about being tardy on this particular morning—the entirety of the realm itself would come to a standstill should the heir apparent ask for it on his name day.

What did surprise Loki was Eirlys' evident belatedness. His mother's apprentice was known for her punctuality; she'd been early or on time to every gathering, save for the instances she accompanied Sif. It seemed she had an overwhelming need to be punctual—likely due to her upbringing as a courteous, well-bred lady of the Vanir court. It was most amusing to witness her distress when he caused her to be late for her lessons.

She'd been under his mother's tutelage for longer than a year now, and his opinion of her had seen fit to change over time. He remembered when he first heard of her arrival; he'd been more than primed to unleash all sorts of disdain upon her. His mother's apprentices tended to be younger, true students of magic who dedicated their entire lives to the art—never had they been courtiers. Yet the Lady Eirlys was a maiden of the court—the daughter of Vanaheim's Lord High Steward, no less. He'd expected her to be another fickle maiden occupied with her standing in society more so than magic. But her time in Asgard proved that assumption insubstantial.

At first, he'd been eager to be rid of her. Thor and the warriors had taken a quick liking to her, and nothing vexed Loki more. Employing the series of tricks had been simple, and rather effective, or so he believed. He might've seen success in having her dismissed if he hadn't been caught; his mother had known that he played a hand in Eirlys' woe the moment she learned what had been occurring. It was her reprimand that put an end to his mischief. And he would've gone on ignoring the maiden if she had not requested his assistance. He surmised that she was attempting to end the strife between Eirlys and him, and he could not help but oblige her.

Upon spending more time with Eirlys, he came to realize that she was not as he expected. She was more dedicated to learning than anyone with which he'd been acquainted. And she spoke to him in a manner no other maiden aside from Sif would ever dare; the rather heated words Eirlys bestowed upon him in the library was certainly proof of that. Not to mention the remarks they exchanged on the terrace. She could be an audacious little thing when she needed to be. There was something oddly endearing about—

The soft _squeak_ of the door behind Loki made him turn.

Eirlys came striding from her chambers, hands folded neatly before her. Though she seemed to be holding herself in that politely demure manner of hers, the bold attire she'd donned exhibited otherwise. It was impossible to ignore. The deep emerald green of her silken gown was utterly striking against the golden red hue of her hair. His pulse seemed to quicken as he took in her bared back and plunging neckline. He wondered if she had any idea how stunning of an image she was.

"Good morrow, Loki." She smiled that smile of hers he once believed to be meek. But it was less meek than it was gentle, serene, benevolent. Beneath that smile, there was an ember, a boldness that flared when necessary. "I don't suppose Thor is close to being prepared?"

"Of course not."

Glancing down the corridor, she cleared her throat. "He's not... Afildys isn't in there with him, is she?"

The question was curious coming from her, since she'd previously expressed an aversion to knowing anything about Thor's personal matters. He wouldn't have been surprised to discover that this sudden change in interest had to do with Sif.

"I certainly hope not. He's been spending an inordinate amount of time with her," he replied. "I would say I expected more from Thor, but even you would see through that lie."

She looked rather peeved by the slight towards his brother. "So long as he does not invite her to the arena box, I have no qualms."

"Then you best prepare yourself, for I fear the worst."

Their exchange ended when his brother's chamber door swung open with a _bang_. Thor marched into the corridor, arms spread. "Brother! Eirlys! What a fine day it is!" Neither of them had opportunity to respond as Thor drew them into a hug, one in each of his massive arms. While Loki awkwardly patted him on the back, Eirlys simply laughed. With a palpable excitement, Thor eventually released them from his hold. "Let us be on our way. There are several others I have invited to keep us company today."

When Thor walked past them, Loki and Eirlys traded wary looks. There had been nothing said about having guests in the arena box. Seeing as the only other people who would ever be invited to the box were currently competitors in the tournament, Loki dreaded what that might indicate. He had but a single guess as to who Thor would invite to accompany them.

They made their way down to the entrance hall, Thor marching in the lead. After pacing the red carpet and the grand steps, they waited in silence for the arrival of Thor's guests. At the sight of the three maidens approaching, Eirlys visibly blanched. _Proven right again_, Loki thought. _Though I would've preferred not to be in this instance_.

Hastening ahead of her friends, Afildys climbed the steps and met Thor with a kiss to the cheek. "Happy name day, my prince," she said, not once glancing at Loki or Eirlys. "I hope our arrival was timely."

"Just so," Thor replied, smiling and nodding to Brynlar and Dagmar in greeting. He held his elbow for Afildys to take before looking over his shoulder as if to make certain Loki and Eirlys remained in their company. "Ready for another rousing tournament? We have a variety of new competitors this year, all coming from different realms."

Brynlar kept pace with Loki and Eirlys at the tail end of the group. "Surely a number of other changes will make this year far more stimulating," said the blond maiden, giving Loki an all too favourable eye.

He responded with an impassive stare. "I'm certain a round of new combatants will make things a touch more interesting." Turning towards Eirlys, he met her gaze. He recalled their own exchange of blows in the amphitheatre box the previous year. It wasn't a fond memory, but he could not dismiss the opportunity to tease her for it, "Last year's competition was a bit... lacking. Perhaps not as sharp-witted as I'd hoped. Though I don't expect this year to be any more impressive."

She seemed to comprehend what he was insinuating, judging by the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks. Such a suggestion earned him a glare. "If we're fortunate, we won't have to be exposed to such drivel again," Eirlys said, giving a pointed look in Brynlar's direction. The maiden seemed absorbed in hushed conversation with Dagmar now. "At the least, you and I are of a like persuasion this year."

The walk to the arena would've been pleasant if it had not been for Afildys' incessant chatter. She spent the vast majority of the time bemoaning the poor state of the Asgardian court, how it was lacking in propriety in recent days. If there was one thing Thor excelled at, it was pretending to listen. Fortunately for him, the moment they stepped foot on the stands, the audience erupted in cheers, drowning out her prattle.

They were actually punctual for once, much to Loki's astonishment. Thor was wont to having everyone involved in the tournament await him based on his own whims. This year, he showed a little decorum. Though even that was somewhat besmirched by the presence of Afildys. The maiden had the gall to sit directly beside Thor, occupying what was supposed to be Loki's seat. Her friends proceeded to seize the seats beside hers.

Loki said nothing. He simply greeted his parents with a brief word before ensconcing himself in the row before them. Eirlys did the same and sat to his right. The discomfort in Eirlys' demeanour did not go unnoticed. There weren't many in the Nine Realms Eirlys had an abject dislike for, Loki knew—he may or may not have been included among them at some point, but he could never be certain. Plain to him now was her loathing of Afildys and her ilk. _Simpletons_, she'd called them. The thought was most humorous.

The tournament's start was marked by the usual speech made by his father followed by the gifting of the gardenias. The warriors poured out into the stands, each with a white flower in their hands. Even at a distance, he appraised them all and found himself unimpressed.

He saw Volstagg present his flower to his wife, as he had done every year before. There was an unfamiliar Vanir warrior, his bright flaming hair like a beacon in the crowd. Two Light Elves had come from Alfheim, much to the delight of many a maiden. Fandral came to the box, smiling all the while as he reached over the partition to hand his flower to Eirlys. She stood and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before offering him words of encouragement. The casual manner in which she did so made Loki wonder if she was ever aware that Fandral was flirting with her. If she did, she was surely not reciprocating.

When Eirlys returned to her seat, flower pressed to her nose, she graced him with a smile. "Do you still enjoy the tournament after so many years?" she asked lightly. "Especially when you've claimed to be far more skilled than every warrior who's ever stepped foot in the arena."

The question gave rise to a smirk. "You're right, it can be quite tiresome. Fortunately, I haven't been driven mad just yet."

Eirlys looked to be holding back a laugh. "Don't tell me you have never disguised yourself to compete in the tournament before."

"But I would be the only one to know the truth," he said, sparing her a glance. "And what would be the fun in that?"

The very last of the warriors approached the amphitheatre box, her gardenia leading the way. Upon reaching the partition, the Lady Sif proffered the bloom to Thor, and the Asgardian prince was more than happy to accept. Afildys was just about fuming, muttering belligerently to her friends behind her hand. Eirlys seemed to relish in it, if the twinkle in her eye served as any indication.

The day ambled by with match after match. Most of the warriors who entered the arena roused the excitement of the crowd only to fight with uninspired strategy. Despite Loki's growing apathy over the years, he had to admit he still revelled in the shouting of the crowd, the resounding beat of the drums. It almost bordered on chaotic, which was something he would never tire of.

The intermission—wherein Loki feigned interest in court conversation—came and went. The courtiers were slow to depart for the amphitheatre for the last match of the day. One maiden in particular seemed rather eager to bear witness to such a duel: Eirlys. Her golden red hair glistered in the light while she darted through the crowd. The moment Sif had taken her leave, Eirlys was eager to make her escape from the banquet hall; she was about as fond of the court as he was. It did not take long for him to follow.

He found her in the arena box, her dainty hands gripping the balustrade as she leaned over the partition. With an eager eye, she watched the master of ceremonies direct his assistants in preparation for the final duel. For most maidens, the warriors were the main attraction of the tournament. For Eirlys, it was the battle, the skill, the mechanics of the competition that seemed to draw her in; he could tell by the way she held her breath, eyes wide, at the height of every duel or the conspicuous grin she bore every time someone wielded their weapon in a notably adept manner.

Loki swept across the box and joined her side. There was a near imperceptible tensing of her body that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Eyes narrowed in the midday sun, she turned to face him. The golden hair comb entwined in her tresses sparkled with the movement of her head. She wore the pretty ornament more often than not; he suspected it had some sort of sentimental value.

"You seem quite avid to view the day's contests," he remarked, peering over his shoulder when Thor and Afildys returned to their places in the front row seats—this time with overflowing goblets of wine. Brynlar and Dagmar soon followed.

"Unlike you." She was all but grinning. "I thought you'd fallen asleep during the match between Balrohg and Vandar."

"I was resting my eyes for a mere moment."

Though Loki peered into the stands below, he could feel Eirlys' gaze on him. When he glanced her way, she cleared her throat and quickly said, "And what of your own name days, Loki? Do they always consist of musical concerts? I don't suppose you tire of those."

"Not always." He cast a look into the arena once more. The stands were mostly full now, and the crowd was abuzz with anticipation; people were leaning over the edge of the stands, hoping to catch a glimpse of the finalists. Eirlys, on the other hand, studied him with wide hazel eyes, her attention rapt. "We often have theatrical performances of works from across the Nine Realms. Comedies, dramas, tragedies—some of them even from Midgard."

"Midgard?" She sounded surprised. "I hear it's been quite some time since an Asgardian has stepped foot on Midgard. I have always wanted to visit the mortal world."

There was this longing she had, this great desire to see all there was in the Nine Realms. She never denied an opportunity to see a new world, even if that new world was Nidavellir or some other notoriously unpleasant realm. He thought it a winsome aspiration; after all, he too longed to see what the Cosmos had to offer. "Then perhaps that is where we shall have our next adventure."

Before either of them could speak any further, the master of ceremonies' voice carried out across the arena, "Lords and ladies of Asgard! At last, I present to you our final competitors of this year's Thunder Tournament." Once he held his hands outstretched on either side of him, Sif and Fandral came strolling onto the battleground to the sound of applause.

Sif carried a double-bladed staff by her side, the blades folded up and hidden; she'd commissioned a tourney imitation of Drekisbane to use in the arena, one of identical weight and size. Across from her, Fandral stood, his foil strapped to the belt at his waist.

"Here stands Fandral the Dashing, champion of the Thunder Tournament these past three years," the master of ceremonies proclaimed.

The crowd roared as Fandral drew his sword and bowed low to Sif; Thor was especially loud.

"His challenger, the Lady Sif, stands ready to make her second attempt to earn the title as champion of the tournament."

Sif unfolded her weapon in an impressive flurry, both blades gleaming in the daylight. She too bowed to Fandral. Again, the crowd cheered. Thor seemed to shout even louder, if at all possible. Behind Loki, Brynlar grumbled to her friends about how scandalous it was for Sif to compete, let alone reach the final round.

"As always, let no true harm come to your opponent," the master affirmed. The two contestants nodded in respect to one another. "Fight to the yield. You shall begin!"

They clashed before twirling away from each other just as quickly. Loki sighed in disinterest, having seen Sif and Fandral engage in combat at least a thousand times before. Instead, he took to watching Eirlys. It amused him, her unbridled excitement. She hadn't seemed so keen about the tournament the year prior, though that might've been due to their less than friendly conversation.

Ever since the incident in Nidavellir, he found himself increasingly curious about her. He had a strange yearning to know what she was thinking, to understand what had her so enraptured. Gaze never wavering from the arena, he rested his arm beside hers on the balustrade—to which she responded with a shiver. He smiled at her reaction and posed a question, "Who do you predict to win this year's tournament?"

She seemed to take a moment to seriously consider the query, as though the answer was of vital importance. "In all honesty, I believe Fandral will be champion again."

"Really?" Straightening, he surveyed her with curious eyes. "And here I thought you had great confidence in Sif. You do not believe she is capable of taking the title?"

One of her shoulders lifted mildly. "Do not mistake me; I would have Sif win this match. But I have seen them fight of late. She has not fared well," Eirlys told him. "I surmised that she is still not entirely accustomed to using two blades. She tends to be slightly off balance, something I noticed during our lessons."

Her reasoning garnered a small chuckle from him. Indeed, Eirlys was far more astute than he had given her credit for. "A keen observation. I think Sif wishes to prove herself the second coming of Skjoldis." The remark earned him an eye roll. "Still, she has a chance. She may well have enough resolve to best him this day."

Eirlys looked to be restraining a laugh. "I'm surprised to hear you say so."

Down below, in the arena, Fandral laughed and taunted Sif before switching his sword from his right hand to his left. The warrior definitely wasn't lacking in confidence—though one could say he had an excess of confidence. "If you are so certain Fandral will be the victor, then perhaps you would be willing to wager upon it?"

"A wager?" She was quick to laugh this time. "With you? Norns, no, I don't trust you enough to make any sort of wager with you."

He feigned indignation. "You don't think I can play fair?"

With a snort, she lifted a brow. "Wagering with the God of Mischief would do nothing but incite trouble."

"That's very cautious of you."

"I have seen your tricks," she said, shooting him a rather pointed sideways glance. "I know what you are capable of. I'd rather like to avoid involving myself in foolish endeavours."

Loki all but scoffed. "Foolish endeavours? What about Nidavellir?"

She gave him a wry look. "It was Nidavellir that convinced me to cherish caution."

Although he was disappointed she didn't rise to the challenge, he could not blame her. She'd been around long enough to believe that he might use his tricks to win the wager. And she would be right.

They returned their attention to the battleground, standing side by side, his arm lightly touching hers. He was acutely aware of every movement she made: the shift in her stance, the curious tilt of her head, the way she leaned forward every time Sif executed a particularly skilful maneuver. He had to admit, he found it all rather intriguing—the intensity of Eirlys' scrutiny, her unwavering enthusiasm.

The duel went on, most of it escaping Loki's heed. That is until something momentous occurred: Fandral made an ineffectual step. He blocked the first of Sif's blades with his own, yet he failed to recall the second. As he would've normally done with most opponents, Fandral pressed forward to force her backwards. Sif, apparently anticipating his attempt, diverted his sword with one blade and laid the opposite against his neck.

They stood still for several long seconds, both warriors visibly heaving to catch their breaths. Then Fandral yielded, and Thor's merriment boomed throughout the amphitheatre.

Much of the crowd cheered, though there were a few discernible mumbles of dismay. Chief among them, of course, was Brynlar. "This is such a shame," she exclaimed. "How could Sif defeat Fandral the Dashing in a match? He is the finest swordsman in the Nine Realms."

In the midst of applauding for her friend's victory, Eirlys cast an unguarded glare over her shoulder at Brynlar. For a moment, Loki thought she might actually say something to the brash maiden, but she ultimately did not dare.

Unlike Eirlys, Loki had no care for the consequences of impropriety.

With the casual wave of his hand, he cast a spell, one he learned long ago. From Afildys' goblet came crawling a massive rat, its fur matted and its yellow teeth crooked. As expected, she screamed, leaping from her seat and spilling the crimson contents of her goblet right into Thor's lap. At the same time, her frenzied movements knocked Brynlar's wine from its perch, sending the contents sloshing over the blond maiden.

Thor leapt from his seat, frowning down at his wine-stained trousers. The spilling of wine on Thor hadn't been intentional, though Loki found himself quite pleased with the result. Panic-stricken, Afildys apologized profusely for her clumsiness, but Thor was much too preoccupied to take notice. In contrast to Afildys' frantic alarm, Brynlar simply stared at her gown, gaping at the ruined cloth.

Eirlys, having seen the whole thing, had one hand on the balustrade, the other desperately attempting to smother a laugh. Loki met her gaze, smirking all the while. "Loki," she said, "I certainly am glad that I did not agree to a wager. I don't think I could ever bet against you." She gave another look over her shoulder to see Brynlar and Afildys launching into a quarrel. This time she couldn't contain her laughter.

Her amusement elicited a gratified smile from Loki. As weary as he'd found the day, this moment made it all seem worth it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And now we shall return to our regularly scheduled programming (Eirlys' POV)! This was a special sort of Loki chapter inspired by a suggestion made by my spectacular beta, **Hr'awkryn**. I do have an idea for another Loki-centric chapter, but that'll happen waaaaay down the road.

I'd like to thank all my wonderful readers. Thank you to all my reviewers for your lovely words. And thank you to everyone who favourited or followed, I appreciate every single one.

Also, the title of the chapter was inspired by the Gotye song called _Smoke and Mirrors_. Just thought I'd mention that.

Until next time!


	16. The Golden Floor

**SIXTEEN**

* * *

_the golden floor_

* * *

The din of the banquet hall carried into the corridor every time the door opened, rising and falling like the tide. Thor's name day feast was about to begin, and the ale was already flowing like a river. I stood near the entrance, fretting with the skirts of my dress as I awaited Sif. We'd made it a habit, meeting outside the banquet hall prior to any feast. It was an unspoken agreement, an alliance; neither of us was particularly fond subjecting ourselves to the court.

I heard her approach moments before I beheld her. With a grace that surpassed most, she ascended the steps dressed in the midnight blue gown crafted for her by Vreyja. Atop her head sat the laurel wreath bestowed upon her by the master of ceremonies. "My congratulations, Champion of the Thunder Tournament," I said, reaching forward to clasp her hands within mine. "Lady Sif, you truly are a vision."

"And you, my friend," she replied, squeezing my fingers. "Accompany me? I suspect I will be barraged by well-wishers, thus I prefer to keep you at my side."

I beamed at her. "Of course. I shall protect you."

We entered the hall side by side. As predicted, numerous Aesir swarmed us to congratulate Sif. The maidens among them admired her for her strength and resolve while the Aesir men made attempts to woo her. She took this all in stride, kindly accepting their words, but never lingering with one well-wisher longer than any other.

Slowly the group began to disperse, and Fandral came to us, grinning in his usual manner. "Lady Sif, I commend you for a fine battle today."

"You made a blunder near the end," Sif pointed out.

He mocked outrage at the accusation. "I did not."

"Yes, you did. You let the other end of my blade slip your mind, and I got the upper hand. What happened?"

"I know not," he said with a shrug. "Perhaps I was baffled by some beauty in the stands. I've already forgotten."

"Typical," Sif sighed. Turning from him, she scanned the banquet hall. "I believe we shall begin the feast soon. I am ravenous—winning really takes the energy out of you."

Fandral cast her a wry look.

When we arrived at the long table, most of the court was already seated. Thor was, of course, sitting at the head this night. Upon spotting Sif, he rose to praise her victory of the day. I stood by, smiling, and let my gaze drift across the table. I took notice of Frigga and Odin, both speaking softly to one another. The All-Father's apparent fatigue was difficult to ignore; his features seemed a little hollow, his posture unusually loose. The annual Odinsleep was upon him. And yet, in spite of his weariness, no one let it dampen their spirits.

To the sounds of gaiety, we were served a fine feast of five courses. No expense was spared for the crown prince's name day. The dishes of pheasant, boar, meat pies, stew and various leafy greens were made to utter perfection. And, as expected, all of this was accompanied by endless casks of wine and ale; more of it seemed to end up on the table rather than in the mouths of attendees, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

Once the last of the dishes were cleared away, the court eagerly made its way into the grand hall. The very moment the quartet struck up a tune, the courtiers began to dance. First was the waltz, a dance I knew hailed from Midgard. Tonight, there were to be numerous dances from across the Nine Realms, or so I'd heard. During my years in Vanaheim, we'd enjoyed many a dance from the other worlds. I remembered all that I'd learned, and I remembered them fondly.

With small, unhurried steps, I circled the central platform in search of friendly company. Fandral was dancing with a fair maiden, exuding his usual humour and charm. To my surprise, Sif had paired off with a handsome red-haired Vanir. It was not often that she danced, but I was sure she would make an exception tonight; everyone wished to dance with the Champion of the Thunder Tournament. Through the crowd, I spied Volstagg and Hildegund standing off to the side, watching the festivities with matching smiles.

When I approached the couple, Hildegund's joviality seemed to swell. "Eirlys, it has been too long."

"Indeed it has," I replied, quickly kissing her cheek. I noticed the strange clammy chill of her skin, but my concern slipped away when Volstagg swept forward to plant two wet kisses on either side of my face. "I see you two are not fond of dancing."

"Never," Hildegund said. "Volstagg, as graceful as he may be"—my brow rose skeptically—"he has never been one to dance."

"Oh, come now." He chuckled. "I could make an attempt at your behest."

"No, I am quite content, my dear."

I eyed her quietly and noted the colour fading from her cheeks. "Hildegund, are you—?"

"Eirlys!"

I lurched and turned to see Thor standing before us, grinning almost wildly.

"Ah, wonderful name day, Thor!" Volstagg said, giving the prince a big, sloppy hug. I giggled alongside Hildegund, suspecting that he had drunk a little too much mead. And possibly copious amounts of ale. I wouldn't have been surprised if there was some wine in him too.

"Thank you, my friend," Thor said. When he drew away, he bowed his head to Hildegund before proffering a hand to me. "Would you like to dance, Eirlys? You know this dance, don't you?"

Blinking at first, I slowly began to smile. "Indeed, I do." I placed my much smaller hand in his large one. "I would love nothing more."

We both graced Volstagg and Hildegund with nods of farewell prior to traipsing up the steps. Amongst the dancing courtiers, we stood opposite one another. One of his hands grasped mine while the other came to a rest at my waist. We dithered a moment to familiarize ourselves to the rhythm before spinning and stepping lightly in time to the music.

"How have you enjoyed the day's festivities?" Thor asked, his deep voice rumbling between us.

"Oh, it has been lovely as always." I grinned as he twirled me. Once back in his arms, I glanced in Sif's direction. She was speaking amicably and laughing together with her dance partner. "I was very glad to see Sif win the tournament. Though it did not escape my notice that others were not quite as delighted. The arena box seemed to grow a little... hysterical."

Thor frowned, obviously apprehending which unpleasant occurrence featuring a certain set of maidens I was referring to. "Yes, I admit my fondness for Afildys and her friends has waned considerably."

I wasn't entirely certain why Thor was ever interested in keeping company with them to begin with. Perhaps they did show warmth and kindness, but that civility clearly did not extend beyond him. And I knew Thor would not stand for that any longer. "I don't suppose you'll be consorting with Afildys much after today?" I said as we went round. "She... well, if I must be honest, she is not the most amiable of maidens. Not to mention, she spilled her wine all over your regalia."

The chuckle Thor let out was something I did not expect. "I know that was Loki's doing."

We turned abruptly, the gossamer layers of my dress skirting around my ankles. Through the numerous courtiers dancing around us, I caught a glimpse Loki leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows. I could not hold back the smile forming on my lips. "I did not think you noticed. The illusion, I mean."

"I did not have to see it to know," Thor told me. "I've become accustomed to every one of his tricks over the many years. We should we thankful he did not use wolf spiders."

I grimaced at the thought. The last time Loki had been in a mischievous mood, he created the illusion of a hundred wolf spiders crawling from the head of a roasted boar because the servant carrying it had laughed at a joke Fandral made at his expense. So frightened the servant had been, Odin saw fit to scold Loki harshly. His voice had been so loud we could hear every word from the hallway.

"Fear not, I am not upset with my brother. Afildys and her friends have made their true sentiments plain to me this day." Thor smiled faintly at me. "And I suspect Loki's trickery was not done purely for the sake of his own amusement."

I could not hold back a breath of laughter. "I suppose you could say he holds a notable disdain for them."

"Something you appear to have in common with him."

Dropping my eyes, I cleared my throat. "Yes, well... those three and I have not had an especially agreeable relationship."

"With Brynlar in particular, I imagine," Thor said. "She believes you have an interest in Loki."

Every inch of skin, from my neck to my cheeks, suddenly felt aflame. "What do you mean? Did she tell you that?"

"No, I merely overheard her conversation with Afildys. I think she envies you of the amount of time you've spent with him. He does not keep company with many a maiden." He smiled, and we slowed to a stop as the song came to an end. Despite my piqued curiosity, the subject seemed to drop when he stepped back and bowed to me. "Thank you for the very fine dance, Lady Eirlys. I think I would ask Sif for the next."

Almost hesitant, I returned with a curtsey before we parted ways. Pacing to the edge of the dance floor, I paused to watch as he met Sif in the heart of the hall and exuberantly kissed her hand. With a delightful warmth burgeoning in my chest, I turned to descend from the platform.

Halfway down the steps, I sensed someone's regard on me. Scanning the crowd, I found Loki studying me once more, his arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the pillar to his left. I stopped and stared, wondering what had him in such a dispassionate mood. I supposed it wasn't unusual—he was never really enthusiastic about these kinds of celebrations. The moment his gaze met mine, he looked away. He was watching the dancing couples now, features blank.

Eyes never wavering from Loki, I weaved between several courtiers. Though he didn't glance in my direction, I knew he was aware of my approaching presence. A curious flutter travelled through my stomach as I came to a stop beside him, facing the platform as he was, my elbow nearly touching his. "You don't look as though you're enjoying the festivities," I commented.

He lifted a brow at me. "Do I have to look as though I'm enjoying the festivities in order to enjoy the festivities?"

A breath of laughter escaped my lips. "Fair enough, my prince." He smirked at the reference to his royal title. "Perhaps you would like to dance?"

"I am not one for dancing."

"As I have observed," I quipped. He did not respond as I had hoped. "A single dance. That is all I ask."

"No."

"It is ill luck to deny a lady a dance."

Loki sighed. "That is not true. You just fabricated that."

I feigned a pout. "Well, it's ill luck in Vanaheim."

"Firstly, I am not superstitious, I do not believe in ill luck," he retorted. "Even if I was, I still would not believe you."

"Are you really so averse to dancing?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest. The gesture seemed to draw his attention, and I caught his gaze flickering down my form. The brief moment of scrutiny sent a thread of heat curling through my abdomen; it wasn't the first time he'd done that this day. Shifting from one foot to the other, I forged ahead. "Perhaps you are a terrible dancer. Is that what it is?"

As I expected, he rose to the bait. "I am not a terrible dancer. I simply feel less inclined to partake in it."

"I will only believe that when I see it for myself."

Loki turned to stare at me with blue-green eyes. "Appealing to my pride?" My only response was a benign smile. "When did you become so devious?"

My heart skipped a beat when he abruptly seized my hand. The coolness of his skin sent a shiver cavorting down my spine as he drew me through the congregation. The dance had just ended, and he led me up the steps to the platform for the one that would follow. We ventured past the other courtiers and came to stand at the far side of the golden floor. Apparently knowing which dance was next, he moved to my left and held both my hands within his. Couples took their places in front of and behind us. A second line of pairs stood to our left, facing the opposite direction.

I swallowed, peeking all around as I tried to surmise which dance we were about to engage in. _Oh Norns_, I thought, my ears burning hot. _How mortified would I be if I am unfamiliar with this dance?_ It was my pride in the balance now, and not his. Loki had to have recognized this, judging from the smirk he was currently sporting.

Relief coursed through me when the first few strains of music sounded. It was an old dance from Alfheim, one I knew well. We stepped forth thrice, following the tempo, and turned to face the second row of couples. Striding between the pairs, we bowed our heads to them.

With one hand gripping mine, Loki twirled me elegantly before placing the other on my waist. I held onto his shoulder, my fingers sinking into his soft green cape, as we went round. Our closeness made me flush, and I tried to sweep away the unbidden thoughts that immediately sprang to mind. "I admit I am impressed, Loki."

He whirled me about again, his hand returning to my waist thereafter. If at all possible, he pulled me even closer. The feel of his hand skimming the bared skin of my back sent shivers running through me. His breath tickled my ear as he spoke, "I am a prince of Asgard, of course I know how to dance."

As if on cue, Thor bumped into another couple a short ways from us. The circumstances of his clumsiness were so strange considering the slow tempo of the dance that I could not help suspecting Loki had played some hand in it. I gave him a pointed look to convey my suspicions.

He mustered an innocuous smile, one that did not have me entirely convinced that he was blameless. "Well, I have always been more graceful than my brother."

"Oh, but of course," I said with a droll nod. "You are certainly never short on finesse. Though I daresay you are severely lacking in courtesy."

"Lacking in courtesy?" He chuckled, his hand gliding along my spine to rest on the curve of my hip. Breath caught in my throat, I peered up at him to find our faces mere inches apart. "Eirlys, please. I am not the only one who seems to have little regard for courtesy. If I recall correctly, you were all too eager to delight in the misfortunes of a certain trio of maidens." He smiled down at me, eyebrow raised, and I couldn't help but smile in return.

A collective gasp shattered the moment.

Every couple on the dance floor came to an immediate halt. Loki and I did the same. Slipping out of his hold, I glanced through the crowd in alarm. Courtiers were looking about, some of them gathering by the side of the platform. It seemed someone had fallen. My heart dropped when I recognized the copper-haired Vanir lying prone at the bottom of the stairs. "Hildegund," I breathed.

Lifting the hem of my dress, I shouldered my way through the crowd and hurried down the steps. I noticed Sif pushing aside the courtiers who were surrounding Hildegund's unmoving form, giving her the space she needed. Volstagg was on his knees, clutching his wife's hand.

I knelt beside him and surveyed Hildegund, ignoring the roiling of my stomach when I saw that she was even paler than she'd been before. Her skin was white as snow and just as cold. "Volstagg, what happened exactly?" I asked gently. "How was she moments before she fell?"

"She said she felt faint," Volstagg told me, his worried gaze never leaving his wife's still figure. "She swayed some before falling... I—I don't understand, she has never been ill before."

A presence loomed over us, and I glanced upwards to see Loki standing beside me, his expression grave. "Are the other healers close at hand?" I said, briefly scanning the crowd. To our misfortune, none of the senior healers had stayed for the dancing.

"Eirlys, what must I do?" Eyes wide and watery, Volstagg looked so lost and frightened.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "We need to get her to the healing room."

Before another word was said, Volstagg swept Hildegund into his arms. He rose easily with his formidable strength.

I got to my feet only to find everyone watching me expectantly, seeking direction. I realized I must've been the senior-most healer there, a fact that held small significance. All the same, I had no choice but to take action. "Someone must retrieve the healers," I said, looking around at those who gathered. Among them was one of the new apprentices—Sigrun, her name was. She nodded in understanding before departing to carry out my request.

Heart thudding, I turned round to find Loki at my side still. "I need your mother," I told him. "She will know what to do."

Loki seemed to sense my fear, for he reached out and grasped my hand in a surprisingly comforting gesture. "I will find her."

He disappeared into the crowd.

I peered about to find Thor, Sif, Fandral and Hogun, all of whom remained nearby. They were looking upon Hildegund with equivalent concern. "We must hurry," I said.

I strode just ahead of Volstagg, wending through the courtiers and leading the way out of the grand hall.

The walk down the corridors to the healing room was silent. I could practically feel my friends' disquiet, so palpable it was. In Asgard, it was incredibly rare for anyone to fall ill, especially ill enough to slip into a state of unconsciousness. Numerous possibilities filtered through my mind, each with a worse prognosis than the last. I tried to ignore them. I wanted one of the senior healers to diagnose her first, for the only plausible illnesses that crossed my mind were startling and grim.

There were two healers in the healing room that night: Marawen, a senior healer, and Lyress, her apprentice. They surged forward the moment they saw Hildegund in Volstagg's arms. As Lyress scrambled to fetch supplies, Marawen compelled him over to one of the beds in the middle.

With Hildegund laid atop the sheets, Volstagg lingered by her bedside, wringing his hands. Marawen and I rounded the bed to stand opposite him. "What appears to be the problem?" she asked.

"We're not completely sure yet," I said. "She fainted—"

"Has she had much wine?" Marawen questioned Volstagg.

"No, not a drop."

Marawen extended her hand to touch Hildegund's brow. She drew away immediately as if burned. Shaking her head, she said nothing while she whirled about and bustled over to a table in the corner where Lyress stood. With a frown, I reached out to Hildegund as Marawen had done only to flinch upon contact. Her forehead was far too hot. Yet her skin from the neck down was as cold as ice.

It was then that I realized what the malady was, and it felt like the Nine Realms were crashing down on me.

A fierce ringing filled my ears. Everything seemed to spin, my vision tunnelling for the briefest of moments. In my daze, I was vaguely aware of Volstagg speaking to me. A question. He was asking me a question. I blinked at him, but before I could comprehend what he was saying, a number of healers came rushing in. They were shortly followed by Frigga and Loki.

Swallowing dryly, I took a step back to let them work. The healers examined Hildegund delicately, murmuring amongst one another. Loki came to stand beside me, watching the proceedings just as I was.

"I have never seen such symptoms before," Marawen said to the other healers.

"They are familiar to me, but I am not entirely certain of what it is," Frigga told them. "Allow me consult my texts, I am sure to find it."

"It's Rydia's disease," I said. Everyone present rounded on me as if stunned that I had spoken, that I was the one with the answer. I stared at Hildegund solemnly, my heart sinking with every passing moment. "She has Rydia's disease."

"Yes." Frigga nodded faintly. "That is correct. These are indeed the symptoms." She looked at me, her eyes glimmering in the soft firelight.

"Rydia's disease?" Marawen turned to me, almost disbelievingly. "I am not familiar with this."

"It's a Vanir illness." I knew all the symptoms: fever, cold sweats, vomiting, dizziness, coughing up blood. But I would not utter them while Volstagg was in such a distraught state. "It's contagious. Most Vanir are immune to it, but those immune can still be carriers."

"Can she be cured?" Volstagg asked, his voice trembling.

"Yes," I answered, "but we need dreamfoil. In order to get that, we'd have to..." I trailed off and glanced at Frigga who subsequently frowned.

"You would have to travel to Svartalfheim to find it," Frigga said.

"Then we must leave immediately," Thor declared.

"We can't," Sif intervened. Thor looked appalled by her refutation, but she pressed on, "We have to plan this carefully. Much of the land in Svartalfheim is claimed by the remaining Dark Elf clans. If any of them catch us in their territory, we would no doubt incur their wrath."

Loki deferred to me. "How much time do we have?"

I hesitated, my mind steeping briefly in dark memories. Dark memories that I quickly buried. "Days. A week at most."

"Do you know exactly where we can find the dreamfoil?" he asked.

In the Vanaheim house of healing, Hyldir once told me all she knew about dreamfoil: it was incredibly rare, and it could only be found in Svartalfheim. Despite our lack of knowledge, she had been able to tell me where in Svartalfheim it grew, though it never grew in abundance. "I believe it can be found in the Celestial Woods," I said. "Do you know where that is?"

Every person in the room watched Loki raptly, awaiting his response. "Yes, that region is presided over by Nalak," he stated. Thor practically growled at the mention of the name. "Many of the Dark Elves there are proficient in magic. It could be very dangerous."

I turned to Frigga, seeking her guidance. She seemed deep in thought, her eyes trained on Hildegund. In the wake of a lengthy silence, she nodded to me. "Go to Svartalfheim. You will be safe with your friends," she said. "Do you remember what I taught you about kingsleaf?"

"Yes, everything."

"You should be able to harvest and cultivate dreamfoil in the same manner," she told me.

I could only nod in response.

"We should wait until tomorrow," Hogun suggested. "So that we are well rested."

"Agreed," Loki said. "But first, we should make our plan."

"I am going with you," Volstagg said, springing to his feet. His face beneath his beard was blotchy, his eyes red and watery.

"We will be fine, Volstagg," Sif assured him.

He looked ready to protest, but I strode up to the towering warrior and placed a hand on his arm. "You need to stay here with Hildegund," I said, trying my hardest to keep my voice from wavering. "Your presence will help her."

He sniffed and, after a moment, reluctantly nodded. "Yes, of course." Slowly, he knelt beside his wife again. "What was I thinking? I should never leave her side."

I exchanged a despondent look with Sif. It was disconcerting to see Volstagg so upset. He was always the one who brought cheer to our group, smiling and laughing and eating all the while. Hildegund herself was much the same; she'd been an endlessly lively woman. To see them like this made my heart ache.

"Come, my friends," Thor said sombrely. "We must determine our plans."

We assembled in the sitting room of Thor's chambers shortly thereafter. Unlike mine, the walls lined with trophies of his adventures as opposed to shelves of books. In the centre stood a table that could seat eight people. Here it was that we gathered, poring over charts and maps of Svartalfheim. We stared at the outline of the Celestial Woods, an incredibly large forested area that Loki circled in bright red ink.

"Heimdall should be able to send us here." Loki indicated a spot on the map that sat far from the Celestial Woods. There was a long tract of field we would have to trek through, along with a mountain passage.

"That's a whole league from the woods," Fandral said incredulously.

"Yes, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves," Loki replied, shooting Fandral a pointed look. "At a league away, we would be out of sight and hearing when we arrive by the Bifrost. No one resides in this area."

Fandral frowned at Loki's condescension, but Sif duly interrupted before he could devise a retort, "These woods must be at least a dozen acres. It could take days to search it all."

Thor gave me a worried glance. "Where does the dreamfoil grow best?"

I opened my journal and flipped through its pages. There wasn't much the Aesir and the Vanir knew about dreamfoil. Since it only grew in Svartalfheim, that meant the Dark Elves would never allow us into their lands to take any. Not even to save our dying. The little we did know had been passed down from healers long before us, all of which I had transcribed into the book I held in my hands. Some part of me feared the information could be inaccurate or outdated.

"It requires a great deal of sun, much like kingsleaf." I leaned over the table beside Loki. My arm brushed his as I ran a finger along the map. "And it must grow near a river or a stream. "

There were a multitude of rivers and streams, some of them flowing for several leagues. My heart dropped when I eyed the distance we possibly had to travel in order to find the dreamfoil. While attempting to avoid Dark Elves, no less.

After letting out a shaky breath, I pressed a hand to my mouth. This was as far as I could narrow it: somewhere in the Celestial Woods, near the water, in the sun. _Acres_, as Sif had indicated. It could take days to find, and we didn't have many.

"You should all find rest," Thor said. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Sif, Fandral and Hogun agreed. They murmured their partings and strode from the room.

Loki and I remained, our gazes focussed on the map. I was trying to decide where the best starting point was. He, on the other hand, was staring so intently, it gave me the impression that he was attempting to memorize the whole thing.

"Do not fret, Eirlys." Thor appeared at my side and gently grasped my hand. "You must rest. I fear we could take days in Svartalfheim where sleep may not be found."

I smiled sadly. "Yes, you're right. I shall retire..." Straightening my stiff back, I heaved a tired sigh. "Sleep well."

"And you." Then he turned to Loki and dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You as well, Brother."

He withdrew to his bedchamber while Loki and I took our leave. We were completely silent, not even glancing at one another as we walked to our own chambers. Pausing with my hand on the handle to my sitting chamber, I said softly, "Rest well, Loki."

I opened my door only to have Loki stop me halfway, his hand atop mine. Startled, I spun about to face him, the distance between us virtually nonexistent. "Tell me something," Loki said, voice soft in the stark silence. "How did you know what the illness was? The other healers couldn't say. Even my mother hesitated. How did you know what they did not?"

My shoulders dropped, and I pulled my hand from beneath his. "I knew because my mother died of Rydia's disease." Our gazes met amidst the gloom. "The Vanir healers never retrieved the dreamfoil for her. The Dark Elves killed them before they could."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Things are about to get real tense! As always, I express my thanks to my magnificent beta, **Hr'awkryn**. And I extend my gratitude to my lovely readers—those who reviewed, followed or favourited alike. Also, I'd like to note that I am on the verge of reaching 100 followers, so thank you all for your continued interest and support!

The title of this chapter was inspired by a Snow Patrol song also by the name of _The Golden Floor_.

Please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you :)

In the meantime, cheers


	17. The Dark Wood

**SEVENTEEN**

* * *

_the dark wood_

* * *

Inhaling deeply, I adjusted the bronze breastplate I bore with trembling fingers; it had been Sif's once, before she received a new one for her name day some decades past. What felt stranger to me still was the sword resting at my hip. Prior to her retrieval of Drekisbane, it had also been Sif's—Frostblade, she had named it. I wasn't exactly eager about using it. Even now, I hadn't much practice with a real sword. And I couldn't suppress the stab of horror that came with the thought of taking a life.

"Eirlys? Are you ready?"

I snapped out of my reverie to see Sif standing before me. We'd been lingering on the Rainbow Bridge, just outside the Bifrost observatory, preparing ourselves for the journey ahead. She watched me, concern in her gaze.

"Yes," I said, touching a hand to the scabbard at my side. "Yes, we should make haste."

She walked with me into the observatory where the rest of our company awaited us. Together, we stood before Heimdall. The guardian of the gate clutched his broadsword close, the sharp end resting upon the golden steps leading to the pedestal. Once we came to a standstill, Fandral and Hogun glanced in our direction with equivalent grimness. The sobriety of our normally jovial group was unsettling. To our left, Loki and Thor gazed upon the gatekeeper expectantly.

"Be warned," Heimdall said. "The Dark Elves never cease to patrol their woods, even in the night."

"Couldn't Loki just cloak us?" Fandral asked, sparing a glance at the prince.

"The Dark Elves have powerful magics," Heimdall stated, lifting his sword. "Especially in the art of detection. You cannot hide from them just as you cannot hide from me." He turned and activated the Bifrost.

Heads bowed, we circled the pedestal to stand at the aperture of the observatory. "We will have to exercise considerable stealth, which I know is not a particularly strong suit for some of us," Loki said, giving his brother a less-than-surreptitious look. "I will lead. Say not a word."

Thor responded with a frown, but he did not refute him.

"May the Norns favour you this day," Heimdall said.

And then we were gone, travelling through the stars at incomprehensible speeds.

We landed mere moments later, clouds of dust bursting around us. Undoubtedly, someone could've seen us from a mile away. But we were leagues from known places of civilization, thus we were safe. Relatively safe. Or so we believed. I couldn't push away the feeling of apprehension that someone passing through the uninhabited land could've seen our arrival. The clans of Svartalfheim were unforgiving.

As soon as the flurry of dirt subsided, we each turned in place to survey our surroundings. We had landed in a barren plain filled with nothing but soil and rocks. A short ways from where we tarried, there stood a field of tall grass. Farther on, the mountain loomed high above the lands of Svartalfheim, its peak reaching for the clouds.

Loki was the first to head towards the field. "This way."

He took the lead as we trusted him to, for he had studied the map the most. We began our journey in the lofty grass, striding in single file to hide our numbers. While Thor and Loki were just barely tall enough to see over the field of green, the rest of us were not. I walked blindly behind Hogun, and Sif walked blindly behind me.

As we trudged forward, I brushed aside and ducked beneath drooping blades. The grass was damp with morning dew. Errant strands of hair stuck to my forehead, and where it didn't, it dripped with water. My clothing and armour became soaked through until it felt like I was carrying a massive weight on my back and shoulders.

No one spoke once we broke through the grass and came to a section of trees. Loki—crouching low now—wove between the conifers, and we followed suit. Just ahead, beyond the numerous shrubs and tree trunks, I could see a narrow dirt path. It led into the mountain where there lay another tunnel, gaping and black as the abyss.

We paused to observe the mountain passage, a current of unease coursing through our company. I glanced at Loki to see trepidation in his eyes. He knew it was the quickest way to the Celestial Woods. We all knew it, it didn't have to be said. And yet we hesitated. An underground passage so small, travelling so deep into the mountain just screamed death trap. But we had little choice.

"We cannot risk lingering out here a moment longer," Sif insisted. "And you know how much I despise going underground."

"Says the one who led us into a jorgandr's den," Fandral quipped.

At the fore of our group, Loki and Thor exchanged a look. As soon as they nodded to one another, they hurried forward and entered the passageway. Without any further protestations, the remainder of us sidled after them.

Upon entering the passage, Loki provided us with light, as per usual. The air seemed to thin the deeper we delved into the mountain, and I felt more and more suffocated with every passing second. The tunnel was narrow, hardly wide enough to fit two people side by side. Even worse, the ceiling was low, and I could've sworn Thor's head was scraping against it.

"This passage has been left undisturbed for a very long time." Sif's voice was soft and muted in the confines of the underground lane. "The Dark Elf clans likely avoid crossing into another's territory."

"They're smart enough not to incur each others' wrath," Fandral said. "Unlike us."

"We are desperate," Loki said. I saw him glimpse my way. "Very desperate."

When we exited on the other side at last, the daylight shone down on us, brighter than before—though that wasn't saying much. Despite the dimness of the light, my eyes could not contend with it for what seemed a whole minute. From what I could see of it through the clouds, the sun had risen far higher since our arrival. It made me wonder how long it had taken us to plod through the pitch-black passage. Midday was on the verge of arriving; we had to have been roving for hours now.

Out in the open, we made a mad rush for the trees and went slinking into the shadows. I knew immediately that we'd reached the Celestial Woods. The further we ventured into the depths of the forest, the darker it became. Soon, there was nothing but the occasional flicker of pale sunlight to point the way. Amongst the dusky flora, we stepped as stealthily as we were capable. The problem was that, no matter how careful we were, we would never be able to know if the Dark Elves were nearby. They would always be quieter and conceal themselves far better than we could. This dark wood was theirs.

The air within the forest was cool and clear, which was a blessing after having to range the mountain passage. Above, the trees rustled and shook with life. I glanced all around as we trekked, struggling to peer through the darkness. Every bit of greenery appeared unsullied, crisp and strong. Even the woodlands of Vanaheim weren't as hallowed as the forests of Svartalfheim; and we treated ours with great reverence. I would've thought it pleasant if the situation had been different.

For hours we scoured the forest. Loki acted as our guide, leading us to every stream and river. We ran alongside them, seeking out every bit of sun in view—and there weren't many patches of sun. I told my companions what to look for: translucent leaves and black stems. Dreamfoil would be incredibly difficult to find in the blackness of night; that meant we had even less time to look.

We traversed the woods, ever searching, until even the barest of sunlight started to dwindle.

"We have to stop," I said to Loki. "It will be impossible to find without daylight."

He came to a halt and regarded me silently. I could tell he agreed, but the reluctance was there. He didn't want to remain in Svartalfheim for a moment longer. Neither did I, for that matter. "It will be risky resting in this forest," he murmured. "For all we know, the Dark Elves could be watching us, waiting for the moment to strike."

"Then each of us will take watch in turn," Fandral said. "The day has been exhausting, and the moment the sun sets, we won't be able to see a thing."

Loki nodded. "We shall find a secluded place."

We scurried through the trees, our footsteps but a whisper on the soft, damp forest floor. Within minutes, we came across a copse, one where the trees stood close together. It was there that we took shelter, amongst the bushes and between the tree trunks.

Once we settled in, Loki volunteered to take first watch and disappeared up the largest tree. It wasn't long before everyone else found sleep, so wearied they were from the day's journey.

But sleep would not come to me.

I lay on my back, staring at the trees above; it was nothing more than a billow of leaves, branches hidden behind green clouds. The trees stood tall, towering overhead like silent guardians. What made it so remarkable was the soft incandescence that the moonlight seemed to cast upon the greenery. Unlike the sun, the moon set the forest aglow, and it became clear why they called it the Celestial Woods.

In the quiet peace of the night, I was able to admire Svartalfheim's beauty. It was oddly tranquil. Perhaps even a little lonely.

Taking a deep breath, I rose to my feet and slowly ascended the closest tree. It wasn't an easy climb, and I had never been much of a climber, but I managed with some effort.

I found Loki near the top, concealed within the leaves. He sat on the thickest bough, his back against the trunk, right leg outstretched. He had a hand propped on his left knee, twirling one of his throwing daggers. Without even moving, he cast me a short glance before returning his gaze to the forest floor.

"Can't sleep?" He spoke scarcely loud enough for me to hear, even in the utter silence of the forest.

"Sleep eludes me. And fear plagues me, as it has all day." Standing on the tree limb positioned beneath his, I braced myself against the trunk with one hand. The bark scratched uncomfortably at the palm of my hand, but I paid it no heed. "Which is quite problematic, considering I did not sleep well the previous night either."

I tried to peer through the pines around us, but the faintly illuminated leaves were so dense, I couldn't even see past the very tree we were disguised within. Below, I could distinguish small sections of our camp. Tree trunks lined our clearing in a circle, shielding us. The Dark Elves would've had to be very near in order to spot us; I was confident Loki could dispatch them before they could.

The quietude was disrupted when he spoke again, "Will you tell me something?"

I tilted my head back to behold him. "Anything."

"You made mention of your mother last night," he said. "Tell me about her. If you don't mind."

"My mother?" I grabbed the tree limb above to climb onto the bough beside his. It wasn't much higher than the one he sat upon, though we were separated by at least a foot. I perched on the edge, the soles of my boots pressed against his branch. "No, I don't mind." The hollowness in my heart said otherwise, but I ignored it. "What would you like to know?"

He hesitated, his eyes lingering on me before he returned to scanning the clearing beneath us. "What do you remember about her?"

I scrutinized my hands in my lap. They were covered in dirt and scrapes. I absentmindedly rubbed at them as I recalled what had happened so long ago. "She contracted Rydia's disease when I was very young... so I don't really remember much of her, to be honest."

My heart sank at the thought. The most vivid memory I had from my childhood was her dying—the days before her death. "I remember running about the fields, amongst the wildflowers. A day like any other, really." I furrowed my brow as details rose to the surface. "I was making play at duelling with one of my father's guards. My nursemaid and all the other guards were just... laughing. I was so young and so small; I imagine it must've been a most amusing sight to them."

I half-expected Loki to interrupt, but he never said a word. So I kept on, "Then one of the servants came to... to tell me that my mother had fallen ill. And I knew... I just knew." Hand against my brow, I shook my head. "They didn't let me see her. They weren't certain if I was immune. So I simply waited outside the house of healing, never knowing, never understanding what was happening. She died three days later."

"I'm sorry." The remorse in his voice made my eyes well up. When I lifted my head, I realized Loki's gaze was on me, his attention rapt. "I did not mean to rouse unpleasant thoughts. You must have some fond memories of her."

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. Turning from him, I hastily wiped at the trail left behind. "I, uh... there was one thing she used to say to me. Often, too." I managed a shaky laugh. "My father would take us to visit with the lords of Vanaheim whenever Lord Njord was absent. There was nothing I despised more; I had so little patience in my youth. Without fail, I'd complain incessantly about wanting to go home. And every time, my mother would tell me, 'home is where you are loved most.' It just... I always thought it seemed a nice sentiment."

I caught Loki's small smile as he glanced away, his gaze downcast to where our friends lay sleeping.

"That is what I remember best about her," I murmured. "I remember her words. But I can't remember what she looked like or the sound of her voice. Most of what I know about her comes from other ladies in the court, from the healers, or my handmaiden." I faced Loki, leaning my shoulder against the tree trunk. "She was a healer. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you did not," Loki said softly. "Then it is from her that you inherited your abilities."

"I suppose," I replied. Shaking my head, I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth as if it would stem the flood of tears. "Is that not a terrible irony? She died from a disease she'd been trained to cure. How can I hope to accomplish that which she could not?"

When his hand reached out to hold mine, I stared at him, my heart thudding within my breast. "You have my word that we will accomplish what others could not," he said. "We're going to find the dreamfoil, and Hildegund will be cured. You need not be afraid."

His vow brought warmth to my heart. It was somewhat strange, having him comfort me, but it was not at all unwelcome. "Thank you, Loki."

"You should try to rest," he told me, drawing away. My skin tingled in the absence of his touch. "We need your sight keen on the morrow."

Tiredly, I rubbed my eyes with the pads of my fingers. "That would probably be best. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Pleasant dreams, Eirlys."

After giving him a grateful smile, I climbed to the base of the tree and curled myself along one of its roots. The moment I stilled, sleep arrived at last.

Come morning, I rose with the sun.

We ate the provisions that we carried with us: dried meat, bread, and fruits that would only last for a day. I could just picture Volstagg griping about the horrible plainness of our meal. Whenever we travelled with him, he always ensured we ate well; the meals he brought were consistently delectable. Then I remembered the reason why he was not there to voice his opinion, and my amusement faded away.

After breaking our fast, we continued our pursuit. Just as before, we remained unheard in the forest, the sound of our steps masked by the water's flow. I carefully observed every beam of sunlight, lingering to ensure I did not miss the dreamfoil. Once or twice I swore I espied its translucent leaves, but it was never more than a trick of my mind.

The sun moved a great distance in the sky, and morning became midday. That was when our fortunes changed.

"There!" Thor exclaimed, hurrying forward to my side.

I scanned the area he indicated. My breath caught in my throat the moment I spotted the very flora we sought. Its leaves were sheer like blue tinted glass. The veins contained within were a bright green fading to ebony nearer to the stem. Branches the width of a finger, black and twisting upwards, spiralled around one another. The dreamfoil, with all its leaves, practically glowed in the light.

"This has to be it," I said, running towards the small shrub. I knelt beside it and glanced around to be sure we weren't seen. As I looked, it occurred to me that I wouldn't have been able to perceive the Dark Elves even if they'd been there. "We should all take a few sections, just as a precaution."

Everyone nodded, not bothering to question my reasoning. With the few pruning tools I had with me, I snipped multiple stems of leaves, giving each of my company at least a handful. Then I took out my handheld spade and began digging at the roots with a delicate touch.

"What are you doing?" Loki enquired from beside me.

The baffled look on his face would've made me laugh under normal circumstances. "I'm taking it with me." I gently pushed aside some dirt. My already grimy hands were further bathed in mud. "We're going to need more dreamfoil in the future, so we'll need to grow it ourselves. This one is small enough for me to carry."

Loki didn't speak thereafter. His nearly imperceptible smile said everything.

With the entirety of the dreamfoil tucked away in my satchel, I stood and nodded. "Let's go home."

We took off running faster than we'd done earlier now that we weren't on the lookout for the dreamfoil. I fell to the tail end of our group, fighting against my weariness to keep pace. Loki slowed to join me, as if to make sure I wasn't left behind.

When we reached the mountain passage, Loki provided light once more, though he did not lead. He remained at my side, looking like he was prepared to come to my aid should I have need for it. To my amusement, it was Fandral who staggered, tripping over a particularly large rock that went unseen in the dark. It went careening into the wall, the heavy _clack_ echoing in the enclosed passageway.

The spark of mirth within me flickered and died at the sound of a distant rumble. When pebbles and dust started raining down from the ceiling, Sif paused and glanced behind at us. Her mouth dropped open seconds later, and I quickly realized what was happening. "The tunnel is collapsing!" she said, outstretching her hand. "Come on!"

I started forward, but the increasing volume of rocks and dust between me and Sif forced me to skid to a halt. With the intent of dashing through the torrent, I prepared to cast a barrier spell.

But I wasn't quite fast enough.

I heard the _crack_ first before I saw its descent—a large boulder above had come loose. A mere heartbeat before I would've been crushed, Loki tackled me to the ground.

Stunned, both by the force with which I hit the ground and the fact that Loki was splayed out on top of me, I blinked harshly to gather my bearings. As soon as my wits returned, I cast a barrier, encompassing the two of us to fend off the downpour.

I squeezed my eyes shut and silently prayed to the Norns that we would not die this day.

Then everything stopped.

All was still.

Slowly, I squinted through the gloom to see the dust had settled and the rocks had ceased cascading upon us. Loki shifted, raising his head from where he'd had his brow resting on my shoulder. He looked at me, his gaze flitting over my form to assess my condition, my magic providing a soft blue glow.

I panted like I'd run several leagues, my chest heaving almost painfully. "Are you alright?" I asked, not willing to appraise him in the same manner at such a close proximity.

He simply nodded, his breath tickling my neck. Ignoring the shudder that threatened to wrack my body, I lifted my head. Through the gloom, I surveyed our surroundings to make certain that no rocks would fall on us the moment we moved. Then I took a deep breath and let the barrier dissolve. We both sighed in relief when we didn't die instantaneously.

With careful movements, Loki rose and cast a light before reaching a hand out to me. I accepted his aid and shakily climbed to my feet.

A wall of rocks stood before us, completely blocking the path that would've led us to the Bifrost rune. We were the only two in sight, which meant that the rest of our group stood on the opposite side. Or they were buried beneath. My stomach roiled at the very thought.

"Do not fret for them," Loki said. "We've faced much worse before."

"Brother! Can you hear me, Brother?"

"Yes, I can," Loki replied, inching closer to the mound of rocks that barred our way. "Are you harmed?"

"No, we are unscathed," Thor said, his loud voice but a murmur through the obstacle. "Is Eirlys with you?"

Loki spared me a glance. "Yes, she's here, she's fine."

"Stand back, Brother. I will dash these rocks."

"No!" Loki cried. "No, do not strike the rocks. The rest of the tunnel might fall on our heads."

There was a moment of silence, and Loki let out a breath.

"You must return to Asgard," I said, coming to stand beside him. His light cast strange shadows all around us. "Hildegund needs that cure. She needs those dreamfoil leaves."

"We will find another way back," Loki assured him.

I frowned, my eyes meeting Loki's as I heard them speaking to one another on the other side. Their voices were nothing more than an indecipherable whisper. "Take care, Loki," came Thor's reply.

"And you." Complete silence followed. We gazed at each other, the light illuminating his face in the oddest shade of green. "We should go."

He revolved on his heel, mindful of the debris that littered the ground. I imitated him, pausing only to open my satchel to ensure the dreamfoil remained intact. The sturdy shrub appeared to be in one piece, save for a few lost leaves and a couple of bent stems. Smiling slightly, I thanked the Norns that we were all relatively unharmed before hurrying forth to walk beside Loki.

"Thank you," I said. His brow furrowed when he glanced my way. "For saving my life."

Loki nodded and faced forward, looking towards the end of the tunnel. "Of course."

The memory of him pressing me to the ground was forever seared into my mind. He had protected and shielded me without a moment's hesitation, even at the risk of his own person. The fact that he'd done so meant more to me than I could ever convey.

"Do you... do you know how to get back to the Bifrost site?" I asked. "Via a different route, I mean."

"Yes." His light vanished as we reached the end of the passage. "Just follow me. And stay close."

I nodded and drew nearer to his side. Together, we exited the tunnel and strode into the sunlight.

* * *

**Author's Note:** To my terrific beta, **Hr'awkryn**, I give my thanks. Again, I thank all my reviewers, those who favourited, and those who added my story to their alerts.

To my guest reviewers: Your words brought a great big smile to my face. **Amanda**, I hope you've recovered from your puddle-like state. And **flyte**, I'd love to hear your guesses as to where I might be going; I will neither confirm or deny if you're correct, but I would like to know nevertheless.

Please leave a review! I delight in hearing from my readers.

_Updated: October 16, 2013  
_


	18. High and Dry

**EIGHTEEN**

* * *

_high and dry_

* * *

The hours passed by in a flurry as Loki and I traversed through the lands of Svartalfheim, never slowing and never stopping. The woodland I once found serene now seemed haunting, a dark reminder that we were stranded in a realm that could very well mean our deaths.

We never spoke. We never had to. All that was needed were several meaningful glances that substituted for actual instruction. On occasion, he would take my hand in his own and lead me through the brush. The venture was far easier for him, with his long legs and stamina. For me, it was a never-ending trial. My lungs felt smothered in embers, as did my muscles. I continuously tripped and stumbled, once almost falling on my face if Loki hadn't kept his grip on me.

The further we travelled, the more the terror within me grew. Never did he tell me his plan, or if he even had one. There were no spoken assurances. But I could see it in his eyes every time he glanced back at me. The silent resolve. An affirmation that he was going to get us out of Svartalfheim. I knew I had to rely on him here and now. And, in that moment, I trusted him entirely.

Without warning, he froze, and I nearly crashed into him from behind. Turning, he grabbed my shoulder with his free hand to steady me. He stood motionless, body tense, and scrutinized the crowns of the trees surrounding us. I imitated him, though my eyes and ears sensed nothing out of place. In the shade of the forest, I saw nothing but green, heard nothing but the rustle of leaves.

A minute seemed to pass before his posture loosened, the uneasiness in his demeanour dwindling, if only a touch. Although the resolute silence between us persisted, we shared a lingering look. I offered him a nod, an unspoken surrender of my well-being. He returned the gesture before taking off again with me in tow.

For the remainder of the day, we ran parallel to the foot of the mountain. From what I recalled of the maps we'd studied, the mountain stretched on for a dozen leagues, curving eastward. It could've taken us days to find our way around it.

As the sun began to set, we tore through one last bit of shrubbery, breaking free from the Celestial Woods completely. My eyes widened in the startling light of early evening. The vermillion sun made everything appear as though it was bathed in blood. Laid before us, the lands of Svartalfheim went on for miles, an open field of shoulder-high grass spotted with trees and rocks.

At the edge of the wood, Loki paused to shoot a quick glance behind. There was no movement in the trees, nor the grass, but that did not mean someone wasn't there.

He looked my way, pale skin made red in the dying light. "Can you keep up?"

Breathless, I could only nod in response.

Then we set off anew, his hand slipping out of mine. My fingers felt oddly empty without his touch.

We didn't stop once. Not until the sun had fully plunged below the skyline, and night basked the land. Our new source of light was not one, but two moons that rose high in the sky. One was significantly larger than the other, though both shone brightly. Like two spheres of magic laid against the black.

My legs were quivering by the time we took shelter in an alcove beneath a large outcropping. I all but collapsed, my limbs made leaden with fatigue. Dragging myself closer, I leaned against the rock and let my eyes rest for a mere moment. I quickly pried them open once more, for I was too afraid to keep them closed for more than a few seconds.

Loki slumped beside me, looking every bit as tired as I felt. Despite the palpable weariness, I had an inkling he could've kept running. But I certainly could not. Not after darting across Svartalfheim for what must have been a dozen hours.

"Do we yet remain in Nalak's domain?" I asked, wheezing still.

He nodded faintly. "If they find us, they might take us captive."

My blood chilled. "For what reason? As slaves?"

"No, they will want to make an example of us." His expression darkened. "They don't take kindly to others trespassing on their lands. Especially Asgardians."

A shiver leapt down my spine at the thought. _They will not find us_, I thought. _Loki made certain of it_. Although I continued to reassure myself, I wasn't sure if I believed we were truly safe. With a heavy breath, I made an effort to banish all grim notions from my mind. It would do me no good to dwell on such fears.

Licking at my dry lips, I gazed down at my dirt-covered hands. They shook from a weakness so pervasive that I wondered how I even made it through the day. I was more tired than any person should be able to withstand. Sleep had been scarce for two consecutive nights, and I had run farther than I thought myself capable.

"You seem unusually weary." He reached out and brushed his knuckles against my brow, his gaze searching. "Have you grown ill?"

I gave the slight shake of my head, not understanding his meaning at first. But I quickly came to realize that he was, in all likelihood, referring to Rydia's disease. I'd been so frantic with worry about Hildegund and the dreamfoil that I did not stop to consider my own immunity to the illness, something I'd never been absolutely certain of before now. "It's highly doubtful," I told him. "If I were infected, I wouldn't have been able to embark on this journey, much less remain conscious by this point in time."

"Are you certain? You can hardly stand. I don't think I've seen anyone grow so weak so rapidly."

"My father is immune; I can easily assume I am as well, even if my mother was not." I narrowed my eyes and began to wonder if Loki was actually making fun of me. "I simply do not have the same stamina as the great warriors of the Nine Realms. That is why I struggle."

There was perhaps the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he let his hand fall to his side. "Then you should rest." He sat a little straighter, sucking in a breath. "I will keep watch."

"What about you?"

He raised a brow at my concern. "I will be fine."

Without further protest, I nodded and slid down the rock. On the hard-packed dirt, I curled on my side, facing Loki. I took comfort in the knowledge that he was within reach, crouching against the outcropping. The cold of night sent a shiver through me, but I was much too drained to even think about casting a ward. So, I simply rested my cheek atop my hand and allowed my eyes to drift closed at last.

The moment of peace barely lasted more than the span of a breath.

I lurched at the sound of a pebble trickling down the outcropping. The crackle of energy in the air had me jolting upright, eyes springing open.

Loki was seconds ahead of me. He flew to his feet and flung a dagger at an enemy I could not see. The loosing of the small blade was followed by a harrowing gurgle and a heavy thud.

Mayhem washed over us in the blink of an eye.

A swarm of Dark Elves came pouring into the alcove, weapons drawn. I scrambled to stand, haphazardly casting a barrier the instant I saw a blast of energy racing towards us. Loki glanced at me, eyes alight with surprise, as the magic battered against my shield and dissipated in a shower of sparks. When I dropped my spell, he turned and hurled another dagger, striking the spellcaster directly in the throat.

While Loki dashed forward to engage in battle, I took a step back and unsheathed my sword. My terror doubled when the action seemed to draw the heed of the nearest Dark Elf. He eyed the blade in my hand, a cold grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

At that moment, Sif's words floated to the forefront of my thoughts, words spoken during my training on more than one occasion. _You have one advantage, Eirlys_, she'd said. _Your skill may never match that of your enemies, but they will underestimate you nevertheless_. It was an encouraging notion, one that made me feel more comfortable with combat than I probably should've been. _Surprise them_.

Adrenaline burst through my veins, and I clumsily blocked an incoming swing. My arms shuddered from the force of the blow. The Dark Elf attacked again, and I ducked before making my first strike. It was parried easily. Our swords clashed once, twice, three times, the clang of metal on metal echoing loudly in my ears. When the Dark Elf made a wide slash, I staggered backwards until I was pressed against the outcropping.

Heart stuck in my throat, I threw myself to the ground and landed painfully on my side as he swiped at me again. Staring up at my opponent, I saw him raise his sword above his head to deliver what would have been a fatal blow. Memories of what Loki taught me in the library flickered through my mind. I prayed I would not miss.

I threw out my left hand and cast a bolt of energy, hitting him directly in the eyes. His moment of blindness was enough for me to rise to a knee and stab him straight through the abdomen. I saw his face in that instant, his skin like alabaster, his blue eyes widening as he looked upon me. He was shocked that I bested him. Not as shocked as I.

Tightening my hold, I ripped the sword from his flesh, blood smearing the once shining blade. I clambered to my feet, slowly backing away once he fell to the ground. His body lifeless. Eyes blank. The sight made me feel empty. Sick to my stomach.

Numb.

My stupor was cut short when I was forced to parry another blade. I scurried back, almost tripping over my own feet, my sword levelled at my newest adversary. As the Dark Elf made to swipe at me, one of Loki's daggers came soaring through the air and struck him in the heart. The Elf collapsed before me, and I turned away, never giving him a second glance.

Glancing about, I soon realized that Loki and I had become barred from one another. Five Dark Elves advanced upon him, while two others seemed eager to beset me. Seeming to notice just the same, Loki cast one of his spells, and several illusions of himself joined the fray. Our enemies appeared to freeze, unsure of how to proceed, their attention drawn away from me.

As the replicas of Loki dodged and weaved through the Dark Elves, I wended through the battle in the hopes of finding the real Loki. With what little magic I had left at my disposal, I shielded myself as I went.

A mighty blast of magic came from my right, one strong enough tear my barrier asunder. I whirled around and was forced to block an incoming sword with the flat of my blade. My attacker shoved me backwards, very nearly sending me to the ground. But I kept my balance, blinking at my adversary in bemusement when he did not advance towards me.

I had not been aware of the enchanter behind me. His presence only became known to me when I was hit in the back with a bolt of electricity.

The excruciating current spread rapidly through my chest and limbs. It felt like someone had seized control of all my muscles and sent pain lancing through every inch of my body. Frostblade slipped from my hand, clattering to the ground. I hadn't even realized that I was screaming until the agony stopped and I fell to my knees in a daze.

My skin buzzed—half from pain, half from numbness. I had neither the time nor the energy to reach for my sword before a hand yanked my head back by my hair, the root of every strand smarting from the abuse. I could only groan in response, unable to resist my captor. An unseen point came to rest at my throat, cold and sharp and deadly. With the tiniest motion, I could've been dead.

"STOP! Or I will kill her."

I nearly ceased breathing when my gaze fell upon Loki. His illusions had faded, and now he stood alone amongst half a dozen Elves. He remained stock-still, a dagger in his fingers, ready to be thrown. His shoulders rose and fell laboriously in the moonlight. Amid the silence, he stared at the Dark Elf behind me, the one who held me hostage.

Then he looked at me, our eyes meeting, and I saw what I never expected to see: fear. Unbridled fear. He remained frozen, unspeaking, as he regarded the jagged blade pressed against my throat.

After a heartbeat, he swallowed and raised his hands in a gesture of submission, allowing the dagger to slip from his fingers. As soon as the dagger came to a rest on the ground, one of the sorcerers strode towards him.

Without warning, the Dark Elf struck Loki with a bolt of lightning. It was far more powerful than the magic they cast upon me—so much so that Loki flew backwards, hitting the outcrop behind him. I shouted his name as he crumpled to the ground, the current still flowing brightly through him. He shuddered, but made no other movement. Nor did he make a sound.

I was flung to the ground, face first, and landed hard on my shoulder. A Dark Elf approached and removed my satchel, sparing only the barest of glances at its contents. He tossed it to one of his companions before knocking me onto my back with the toe of his boot. With a twisted smile, he locked my hands together and hoisted me to my feet.

The manacles he'd used to secure me were heavy, making it difficult for me to even lift my hands. I sensed the hum of magical energy emanating from within them. It made me feel hollow, like there was a vast emptiness in my heart. It wasn't long before I realized the energy-infused chains were suppressing my magic. Any attempt to cast a spell was met with nothing.

I watched as they did the same to Loki, forcing him to stand, binding him with irons. He appeared rather stunned, his glazed eyes meeting mine for the briefest of moments. The pained expression he bore was the last thing I saw before they threw a black cloth bag over my head.

They made us walk, not once saying a word. Being weak from both the weariness and the searing shock cast unto me, I could do little more than shuffle blindly forward with the occasional prod in my still throbbing back to guide me.

Despite my lack of sight, I could hear everything going on around me: the innumerable footfalls of our captors, the occasional mutter of words, the distant howl of the wind. I was able to pinpoint Loki's proximity to me, listening to the _clink_ing of his shackles.

We seemed to travel for hours, the soles of my boots treading over dry, grassless land. At some point, everything grew hushed and cool, our footsteps echoing back at us. A tunnel. The Dark Elves were taking us through the mountain.

More than once, I stumbled, and each stumble was met with growling and ungentle fingers tugging at my arms. Prior to the violent encounter beneath the outcropping, I had been beyond exhausted. Now, I was simply dead on my feet. My legs struggled to cooperate, and, even though I was blind to the world, I knew I was on the verge of blacking out.

Abruptly, one of our captors grabbed me by the upper arm and drew me forth. I felt the ground beneath my feet change from dry dirt to stone. We were entering a building—a castle that remained from the world's more prosperous days, or so I presumed based on the little I knew about Svartalfheim. Just as it was in the tunnel we'd passed through, the atmosphere grew quiet, stuffy and muted. We'd been walking for quite some time in the night, and it was likely most of the Dark Elves housed inside were asleep now. Not that Loki and I could've used their reduced numbers to our advantage, given the state we were in.

With sharp words and rough hands, I was guided down a spiralling staircase. Round and round we went, the constant spinning rousing a most nauseating dizziness. The further we descended, the more my panic swelled; I found myself uncertain of Loki's location, if he was nearby, or if they'd taken him elsewhere. My chest tightened painfully at the thought of being separated from him.

At the bottom of the stairs, I was dragged to a halt. The black bag disappeared, and I blinked furiously in the moonlight.

They'd brought me to a dungeon. A damp chill permeated the walls; I could feel it in my lungs with every breath I took. There was a single cell within the underground chamber, and it contained the only window: a barred hole in the wall that allowed but a thin stream of light to break through.

Though I was shivering, terrified and befuddled, my heart lifted when I saw Loki standing across from me. He glanced about, appearing equally disoriented.

"You will await sentencing in the morning," said the Dark Elf who stood before me. "Our clan leader would have words with you."

The sudden wrenching of my hair made me cry out. One of our captors—the very one who'd shackled me—grinned and unceremoniously shoved me into the dungeon cell. I tumbled to the ground, falling heavily against the far wall. With a groan, I lifted my head to see them attempting to do the same with Loki.

But he was having none of it.

In a blur, Loki grabbed the Dark Elf who'd manhandled me and slammed him into the bars of the cell with a resounding _BANG_. I all but gaped when he started choking the life out of him, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his fingers around the Elf's neck. Several of the others scrambled to haul him off. I could only watch in stunned silence while they fought to pull Loki away from my assailant.

At least three of them had to wrestle him to the ground. Another stood above and struck him in the side of the head with a spiked gauntlet. Again and again, they hit him. A whimper stuck in the back of my throat when they kicked him relentlessly, savagely.

The moment Loki was unable to recover from their blows, they threw him into the cell and slammed the bars shut, locking us in together.

I saw one of them—their captain, perhaps—gesture towards the Elf that remained prone and unmoving on the ground. "Get him out of here!" the captain demanded. Two guards had to drag his limp body from the dungeon; I couldn't be sure whether or not he still lived. Those who remained stood guard by our cell. Some shot steely glares in our direction, but otherwise left us be.

The ground was rough and icy when I scrabbled onto my hands and knees. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I crawled across the cell to hunch over Loki. Through the shadows, he peered up at me, but made no other movement. I reached for him, stroking the side of his head where he'd been brutally thrashed. There was a large abrasion, one that I should've been able to heal. But, try as I might, I could not conjure my magic with the manacles still binding me.

"Are you alright?" I breathed. "Can you move?"

His gaze was slow to find mine. "Are you alright?"

I blinked. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm more worried about you."

Gradually, he sat upright and pressed a tender hand to his head. Drawing his fingers away, he examined the blood with a furrowed brow. After several long seconds, he glanced at the guards stationed outside our prison cell and shook his head. "I was foolish to think we'd outrun them."

He rose to his feet and made his way towards the wall, just below the tiny window. With a heavy sigh, he slid down the stone, practically crumpling at the foot of the wall.

"Outrun them?" I clambered across the cell, every muscle aching in protest. Beside him, I leaned with my back against the chilly stone before shooting a cautious glance at our keepers. They didn't seem to be paying us heed any longer. "Outrun them in the woods, you mean?"

"Yes, I had my suspicions that they were there," he replied, lowering his voice. "And I surmised they were responsible for the cave in."

"How is that possible?"

"A network of tunnels in the mountain, perhaps. They were the ones who'd built that passage, after all." He groaned upon pressing a pair of tentative fingers to his ribs.

I stilled his hand with one of my own before sweeping the other across his abdomen. Through the leather, I could feel several fractured ribs—nothing that couldn't heal in a matter of hours. "You'll heal on your own," I assured him. "It'll definitely hurt though."

When I drew my hands away, he took a deep breath, nodding to me in thanks. "As I was saying, there was no way that tunnel could've collapsed by itself. They must've orchestrated the rockfall. If not to kill us, then to separate us." He cast a dark look in the Elves' direction. "They couldn't have taken our company of six, especially with Thor present. Two is fine enough for them."

"So they wouldn't have gone after the others?"

"Not likely. They were no longer in these Elves' domain when we were divided."

I sighed, glad to know that at least someone would've made it back with the dreamfoil. It was a small consolation, in light of the day's events. Our circumstances were becoming increasingly dire. Even after being cut off from our friends, I had fully believed we would escape this mess. I hadn't even considered what would happen if we ended up captured. The fact that we were in their captivity—at their mercy—had my blood running cold.

"Loki, what do you think they'll do to us?"

He gazed upon me, his features pale and gaunt. Dark half-circles bloomed beneath his eyes, like bruises. Or maybe they were bruises. I knew he'd had much less sleep than I did, having taken watch the night before. Not to mention he'd been dealt significant damage at the hands of the Elves. "Do you wish me to speak the truth?" His voice was soft and uncommonly tender. "Or shall I spare you from its vile nature?"

A long stretch of silence passed us by before I mustered the courage to whisper, "Tell me what you believe to be true."

"They will likely keep us here, torture us for all the Realms to know," he said. "In all manner of terrifying ways. For as long as we live."

My stomach twisted into a tangled jumble of knots. I could not find any words after that, and a heavy silence fell upon us.

I brought my knees to my chest and curled in on myself. It was hard not to fear what was to come, but I tried not to dwell on it.

When I moved to wrap my arms around my legs, I couldn't help but notice the blood on my hands—dry and red and sticky in the crevices between my fingers. It was the blood of the Dark Elf whose life I took. I remembered the way Frostblade slid through his flesh, the light fading from his eyes, the life seeping from his being.

"I killed someone today," I murmured.

I squinted through the gloom to observe Loki's hands. They seemed oddly clean in comparison. "You had no choice," he said. "They struck first."

"But I took a life. I carry that..." A great sickness churned within me. "I'm supposed to heal and protect, not take life."

His hand reached out to clasp mine, the chain dangling from his wrists chiming faintly in the quiet. "Sometimes you have to take a life for the greater good." There was something in his gaze, something dark that sent a shiver down my spine. "If you hadn't killed him, he could've killed you. Don't forget that, Eirlys."

Even in the dark, I could meet his blue-green gaze with mine. Feeling too numb to say much of anything else, I merely nodded in agreement. There was no denying that he was right. The Dark Elf aimed to kill me, and I had no choice but to respond in kind. Loki knew that. He had done much the same.

I thought back to the way he'd fought just minutes ago, how his bare hands wrapped around the Dark Elf's throat. It was actually a little frightening, how brutal it was. "That Elf before... you would've strangled him to death." I glanced sideways at him. "Would you really have killed him?"

"I was trying to," he said bluntly. And I couldn't blame him for it. _Brutal, but perhaps necessary_. The abuse they'd dealt unto him was far more severe compared to what he'd done to them. I was just thankful they hadn't killed him for it. "I thought to attempt an escape, but we're much too outnumbered."

"And powerless," I told him. "I can't use my magic."

"I know."

His fingers slid across the palm of my hand to tug at the cuff weighing down my wrist. Together, we observed the manacles: each band was a dark grey metal sporting little more than a keyhole and the chain that joined them. It looked so plain, deceptively dull in appearance. Gentle with his touch, Loki tilted my hands every which way to see the insides of the restraints. The interior of the cuffs was lined with gold—something clearly mystical that suppressed our magic. Runes marked the edges, strange runes that I was unfamiliar with.

"It seems rather odd that the Dark Elves would possess such a thing," Loki muttered.

I hummed in agreement. "It is unlike anything I've ever seen."

When I leaned my head against the freezing wall, my whole body trembled with a chill, wracking me from head to toe. It was unusual for me to be subjected to the cold. For so long, I'd been accustomed to using my magic for the simple task of keeping myself warm.

Loki ran his cool hand along the icy skin of my arm. "Are you cold?"

I pulled my legs closer to my chest. "Very."

"Come here."

I did no more than stare at him, incredulous. Then he lifted his arms—still bound, of course—and nodded to his side. Disregarding the warmth blossoming on my cheeks, I focussed on the fact that it was logical for us to share body heart. I scooted towards him, pressing my side to his as he let his arms fall around my shoulders.

Normally, I would've perceived his skin as being cool, sometimes cold. But, compared to this frigid dungeon, he was somehow warmer. "The cold doesn't bother you?" I asked.

"I don't think it ever has." His chest rumbled with every word.

Swallowing, I shifted to find a more comfortable position, my head resting against his shoulder. I stiffened when he drew me closer and pressed his face to my hair. His lips were inches away from my ear as he spoke just loud enough for me to hear, "We're going to escape on the morrow. Just follow my lead."

He loosened his hold on me, and I pulled back a little to give him a questioning look. With a smirk, he plucked one of my hairpins free and hid it up his sleeve.

Surmising that he intended to pick the lock on his cuffs, I raised a brow at him. "You're really going to use that?"

"I could use a twig, but a hairpin would be faster," he replied.

In spite of our circumstances, I let out a chuff of laughter. "Always with a trick up your sleeve."

The smallest of smiles played at his lips as he slid his hands down my arm where they came to a comfortable rest at my elbow. There was something almost protective about the way he held me closer. "Now go to sleep. We have much ahead and little time to regain our strength."

I nodded tiredly and laid my head on his shoulder once more. Had the situation been different, I would've thought it odd that we'd found ourselves in so intimate a position. But we were locked in a cold dungeon, surrounded by enemies who were planning to unleash all sorts of horrors upon us. I could not deny the comfort he gave me.

As my eyes drifted shut, I felt him rest his chin atop my head. For the first time since arriving in Svartalfheim, I fell into an undisturbed slumber within the confines of Loki's arms.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Like every preceding chapter (almost), I have to give my thanks to my incredible beta, **Hr'awkryn**. And, of course, I shower everyone who favourited, followed or reviewed with love. Every little notification gives me the motivation I need. I'd also like to note that I've reached over 100 reviews! Thank you all.

To my guest reviewers: It was lovely hearing from all of you. I really appreciate your comments and reviews; it's good to know where my readers' thoughts are.

The title of this chapter was inspired by Radiohead's _High and Dry_ (even though it's not thematically related to this chapter, I thought the phrase itself was fitting).

If you've got a spare moment, please review!


	19. Flesh and Blood

**NINETEEN**

* * *

_flesh and blood_

* * *

The awful screech of metal against metal brought me to consciousness. A sleepy delirium lingered in my mind, and I scrambled to piece together what had happened the day before. I remembered the running, the constant running. We'd been left behind in Svartalfheim, and now we were the captives of Dark Elves... Dark Elves were currently scowling down at us.

Startled, I removed my head from Loki's shoulder. With slow and cautious movements, he lifted his arms from around me to let me go. There was a sharpness in the glare he shot at our captors; judging by his lucidity, he had to have been awake for quite some time.

The fire in his gaze did nothing to hide the hint of apprehension that lay beneath. Some part of me, some frightened part of me wanted him to reassure me. To tell me everything was going to be alright. That we were really going to escape like he promised we would. When he glanced my way, his features expressed none of that.

I drew away from Loki seconds before the Dark Elves stormed our cell. I nearly cried out when one guard snatched me by the shoulders and promptly threw me against the wall. They did the same to Loki, though he appeared far less fazed than I. Our captors scoured my body for hidden items, hands sliding down my sides, their stares leering. Several others acted in equivalence with Loki, albeit with much less vigour.

As soon as their searching hands left my body, they propelled me into the cell bars. I gripped the cold metal, turning my head only to see one of them pressing the point of his sword against the bare nape of my neck. The Elf gave Loki a severe look. "If you try anything, your lovely little maiden will get a blade in her spine."

Loki said nothing. A wordless agreement.

"Come," the Elf spoke again. He led me out of the cell first, his sword hovering over my spinal column. "Our leader wishes to have words with you."

I did not dare glance behind. A number of our captors strode ahead and on either side of me. I counted half a dozen in total, all bearing leather armour and spears. Had the circumstances been in our favour, I believed that we could've defeated our enemy with ease. In fact, I suspected Loki could've taken them all on his own; I'd seen him kill half a dozen Dark Elves in the alcove beneath the outcropping alone. But we were unarmed and bereft of magic. So we went along.

We trudged up the spiralling staircase—a most painful experience with a weapon digging into the back of my neck. At the top, we ventured through a door and entered a corridor. I recognized the roughness of the stone beneath my boots and the coolness of the air from the night before. The walls were all forbidding grey stone adorned by empty sconces and little else. With its crumbling bricks and rotting beams, it was safe to say the castle had seen better days.

As the Elves escorted us down the halls, they seemed rather confident that they held us securely. They didn't think twice about my hairpins, nor did they find the one in Loki's possession. It gave me a small hope. They might've underestimated him. They probably didn't even realize who he was. On the other hand, I could've been the one underestimating them. There was no knowing what they were planning. There was no knowing what they were truly capable of.

They led us into a vestibule, a hall much grander than anything else we'd seen thus far in this realm. It was no where near as grand as the halls of Asgard, nor Vanaheim for that matter, but it was a welcome change from the dungeon we'd climbed from. We walked through the lengthy vestibule, past the hanging furs and various animal trophies, and came to the opposite side where a set of doors opened to allow our continued passage.

I hesitated at first, wanting to glance back at Loki in some attempt to find comfort. But, when my chaperone's sword dug into my skin, the thought vanished. They led us over the threshold, and I found myself surprised by the sight that lay before us.

The majesty of the chamber we'd entered far exceeded anything I'd envisaged. Stained glass bedecked the far wall, a rainbow of colours depicting scenes of what I could only assume to be Dark Elf legends. After seeing the cold, lifeless halls of the castle, the finely-crafted glass seemed out of place, like a bed of flowers in a room of stone. Black velvet banners covered the walls to the left and the right, each bearing a different distinct symbol, none of which I recognized.

Movement drew my sight back to the stained glass—rather, what rested beneath it. There sat a wooden throne, and within that wooden throne, there was a Dark Elf. I knew, without a doubt, he was their clan leader: Nalak. He watched our approach, his inky eyes never wavering from me.

His appearance was quite unlike that of most Dark Elves. The others had complexions of various shades of alabaster, but not him. I observed the clan leader warily: his skin was a pale blue with a dark purple streak set diagonally across his face, as if someone had slashed him with a sword of pigment.

Once we reached the end of the grey carpet, some dozen yards away from him, I was pulled to a halt, the sword at my back cutting into my flesh. I stifled a whimper of pain, not willing to show weakness in front of these Elves.

Loki was pushed forth to stand beside me, stumbling ever so slightly. He regained his footing and stood dignified like a prince of Asgard. It was obvious to me now that they were not aware of his identity, that he was a son of Odin. I doubted Nalak would've been looking upon Loki with the same nonchalance as he gazed at me had he known otherwise.

Nalak sat tall in his throne, his bearing far more regal than I expected for a clan leader of Svartalfheim. I glanced at Loki whose gaze never strayed from Nalak. There was something calculating about the way he stared at the Elf, as if every detail was imperative to the plan he was currently formulating in his mind—at least, that was what I hoped.

"You Asgardians think you can come here and take what you will," Nalak said, leaning forward just a touch. His eyes narrowed as his fists clenched atop the armrests of his throne. "And for what? A plant? You would trespass on my lands and risk your lives for a plant?"

"An act of desperation," Loki told him, his expression changing from shrewd to beseeching in the blink of an eye. "We have ill family. The dreamfoil was a grave necessity."

My attention was drawn downwards, to Loki's hands. He was grappling with his manacles using what had once been my hairpin. I knew I had to buy him all the time I could. "Please. We had no other choice." In my attempt to augment Loki's claim, I tried my best to sound as anguished as possible. With a shaky breath, I let tears well in my eyes. "We thought to... to avoid interfering with your people. We meant no offence."

"Your being here is an offence, as is your thievery." Nalak stood from his throne, and I felt a terrible chill run through me. "We have yet to discuss your worst offence of all: you are magicians who killed seven of my warriors. Such transgressions cannot go unpunished."

Heart lodged in my throat, I cast a glimpse at Loki, praying that he had some way out of our progressively dire situation. More than anything, I wished he could convey his plan to me—if he even had one. He spared me a look in return, one that expressed nothing save that he was well aware of my budding anxiety. "Please... my lord," Loki said. The respect sounded very odd on his tongue; by this point he would've said just about anything to stall further. "We beg for mercy. We have wronged you, and for that we are deeply regretful."

Nalak sneered. "You will find no mercy for you in Svartalfheim. Our proclamations must be abided by, even by you Asgardians. Those who do not will be made examples of." He made a vague gesture that his warriors seemed to understand. "Take the girl to the fountain. Make certain he watches."

The stab of horror in my chest was short lived when I heard a resounding _click_. I turned my head in time to see Loki's shackles falling free. He twisted his hand a mere heartbeat later, and my own chains went plummeting to the ground.

Instinct took over.

I cast an energy projection behind me, thrusting the Elf who'd had his sword at my back to the other end of the hall. He soared into the air and hit the wall with a sickening _crack_. At the same time, Loki snapped the neck of the guard nearest to him; the Dark Elf slumped to the ground, his head bent in a disturbing angle. Loki swept the spear out of his hand before coming to stand at my side.

A jolt ran through me at the sight of Nalak's sorcerers taking aim. Throwing out an arm to press Loki behind me, I used my opposite hand to project a barrier. I grit my teeth and hoped I had the strength to ward off the dozen bolts of magic that came our way. Every strike made my shield flicker, but it held, and the crackling energy burst into a million little sparks.

When I let the spell end, a cloud of smoke burst around us, dark and overwhelming. I could hear Nalak bellowing his orders over the din of his warriors' hollers and coughs. Amidst the confusion, Loki grabbed my hand and led me back to the room from which we came. I risked a glance behind to see the billowing darkness growing in our wake—Loki's doing, I realized.

In the vestibule, there stood two guards in our path. Loki was the first to react, darting forth to run through the Elf to our left. I had to overcome my alarm before launching a bolt of magic at the second guard. It hit him square in the face, and Loki eliminated him just as quickly.

Once they both lay on the ground, dead, Loki barred the double doors behind us with their spears and started for the entryway at the far end of the hall. Stomach twisting, I reached out to stop him. "Wait," I said. "We need to retrieve the dreamfoil."

His brows drew together. "We have enough for Hildegund. There's no sense in looking for your plant."

"I don't want anyone else venturing out here again to find that damned plant." I must've spoken rather forcefully, for he seemed taken aback. "I need to bring it back with us, Loki."

I could tell he wanted to refute me, and I could not blame him. Perhaps a part of me wanted him to disregard my entreaty; I was scared, my wits clearly diminished. When his body tensed, I half-expected him to throw me over his shoulder and carry me out of the castle. I knew as well as he that lingering a second longer was reckless and foolhardy. But I was willing to risk it. All for one little plant whose condition I wasn't even certain of. The Dark Elves could've disposed of it for all I knew.

In spite of every rational thought, I refused to leave it behind. "We have to look. I will not let anyone else venture into Svartalfheim for dreamfoil again," I told him. "Too many people have already died for it."

Any hint of hesitation he had before was gone now. "Come on then," Loki said, and he took my hand once more.

He led me to the right side of the vestibule where we slipped through the nearest door. We'd found our way into a corridor, several rooms lining either side. Together, we opened doors and provided each chamber with a perfunctory glance. Most were plain, containing nothing more than several beds and a hearth. There were no Dark Elves in sight.

In the hallway, we turned a corner and persisted in our search of every room we came upon.

A distant shout made me jump. Loki paused to listen for a mere moment before returning to our task.

Three rooms we barged into, all the same—although one did contain a sleeping Elf who did not rouse at our intrusion.

As we neared what must've been the tenth room, a formidable holler echoed down the hallway, "Nalak has issued his command. Sweep the fields. Scour the forest. It is imperative we apprehend the Asgardians." The proclamation was followed by the thundering of footsteps. And they were heading straight for us.

Loki reacted with greater speed than I. Grasping my upper arm, he pulled me into the closest room, shut the door, and pressed me against it. Elven spear remaining in his grasp, he braced his hands where the door met the frame as though he could hold it shut if someone tried to enter.

I stared up at him, my own hands splayed on the door at my back. With a thick swallow, I turned my head and touched my ear to the wood. Footfalls, hurried and weighty, drifted past the room. I all but sighed in relief as they kept on marching by; none of them had spotted us. We did not move until the sounds of their travel became nothing more than a distant thrum.

Tense still, I dared to look at Loki again, my nose nearly touching the leather of his surcoat. Seeming to notice how close he was standing, he eased away from me and clutched his spear with both hands. "We'll have some time before they realize we haven't left the castle."

With a heavy sigh, I leaned my full weight against the door. "Let's just... keep looking." I ran a hand over my face, feeling weak from my expenditure of magic, and simply tired of all the running.

Loki placed a hand on my shoulder. "When we find it, we can finally be free of this cursed realm."

I sucked in a wavering breath before turning to open the door just a sliver. There wasn't a single other soul in sight. Looking back at Loki, I gave him a nod.

Wordless, we slipped back into the corridor, scanning from left to right. As he continued to do so, my eyes landed on the door across from us. We had yet to see what lay behind the dark, mottled door. Something about it roused my suspicions. Perhaps it was the ornate filigree that spiralled across the wood. Or maybe the faint scent of candle smoke still wafting from it cracks. Steps silent, I made my approach.

"Careful." Loki was equally as dubious as I was. "Stand to the side and open the door when I tell you." I crouched by the wall, one hand on the frame, the other wrapped around the latch. With my eyes on him, I awaited his signal. "Now."

It took a split second to undo the latch and throw the door wide. I dared not peek around the frame to see inside. Instead, I beheld Loki throwing his spear like I'd seen dozens of Vanir soldiers throw their javelins. As soon as it loosed from his hand, a short cry of death sounded. Gripping the doorframe, I leaned forth and stuck my head inside the room.

I saw the tables first, scattered about the room, all of them covered with maps and various other navigational instruments. Shelves lined the walls, each stacked with dusty books long gone untouched. My gaze fell upon the lone Dark Elf in the room. He lay on the floor, spear jutting from his chest; Loki had struck him straight through the heart. Blood spilled across the floor until his life seeped away, and the stream stopped.

Stomach churning, I watched as Loki strode into the room without a second glance at the body. I steeled myself and sidled after him, closing the door as I went.

In the tall chamber, I gingerly sidestepped the deceased Elf and found my satchel atop a table in the corner. I allowed myself a small smile at the sight. I had expected the Dark Elves to destroy it, but now I began to think they were aware of the dreamfoil's value; it was a rare find, even for them. Beside the satchel sat Frostblade, along with Loki's belt of throwing daggers. We reequipped ourselves with haste, and I took a moment to survey the dreamfoil. It was intact, save for a few broken stems; the plant was hardier than I thought it to be.

"We best make our escape now," Loki said, "while they're still confused. They will return to search the castle soon enough." I nodded, slung my satchel over my shoulder, and awaited his instruction. My cheeks warmed when he drew closer, touching the side of my face to gaze intently into my eyes. "You look unwell. You're not accustomed to using so much magic at once."

"I am well enough to make it home," I told him. With a frown, he let his hand drop. "I'm just worried about how exactly we're going to get there."

"The answer to that can be discovered easily enough. There are dozens of maps at our disposal." He turned towards the table situated in the middle of the room. Sliding one of the maps towards us, he gestured to the castle nearest to the Celestial Woods. "We must be here." The site he indicated was on the side of the mountain opposite to where we'd been captured. The tunnel we'd been led through went unmarked on the map.

Brow furrowed, I leaned closer. "We're still leagues away from the Bifrost site."

"But we aren't far from the edge of their domain." He ran a long finger down the dashed line that had been scribbled on the map. "They'll be reluctant to cross the border. That might be our only advantage." Folding the map, he tucked it into his surcoat. With one last glance in my direction, he opened the door and strode from the room.

The corridor was quiet, as was the rest of the castle. Sound had carried easily before, but now there was nothing. It appeared every Dark Elf that had once been in the castle was on the hunt for us. I was uncertain if this would ultimately be a blessing or a curse, though it did provide us with an unhindered exit.

We trod the halls, silent and swift. Turning a corner into a short passageway, we found but a lone door at the far end. A nod of assent passed between us, and he slipped through first. By the time I trailed him through the door, he'd already dispatched a pair of guards with two adeptly placed daggers.

Upon scanning the latest chamber we'd found ourselves in—the entrance hall, from the looks of it—we stepped over the dead Elves and approached the rusted iron gate that blocked our path. Without a word, Loki yanked on the winch, raising the grated gate with little effort. I ducked beneath the portcullis, stopping only to ensure that Loki followed.

The castle was absent an outer wall, and we were free of the dreaded place the moment we crossed the gate's threshold. Not a single Dark Elf was in sight. Either they believed us long gone, or this was all an attempt to draw us out so that they could use the wilderness to their benefit. Before I could voice my fears, Loki took off running, and I had no choice but to follow in his wake.

The cool, clean air chilled my skin, and I revelled in it. As we ventured across the plain, I glanced behind at the castle every few paces. I noted its dilapidated state, old stone and wood barely holding together; it had been built long before Nalak and his warriors claimed it as their own, in a time when the Svartalfheim clans hadn't been at war with one another.

Within minutes, we entered a field of tall grass. It stretched far and wide, ending at a forest whose trees appeared to meld together in a giant green mass. At first, I was relieved the grass only reached my waist. But then a deep dread struck me as we started through it. Should the Dark Elves be lying in wait, crouching in the grass, I would never have been able to see them before they attacked.

I strode in Loki's footsteps while he trampled the grass with his long legs. He held a dagger in each hand, prepared to strike at a moment's notice. With the thick greenery hampering our progress, my legs and lungs burned with equal intensity. Keeping pace was a struggle, but I refused to let myself fall behind.

Minutes passed, and my eyes began to ache from monitoring every little thing around us. Nevertheless, I would not stop. I could not. The fear within me wouldn't allow it.

Halfway across the field, I heard the whisper of movement amongst the green.

Just as I had anticipated, Loki's senses were far superior to my own. He launched a dagger at the Dark Elf in the grass half a second before the rogue could loose his arrow. In turn, I fended off two flashes of magic that came streaking at us from either side. The instant my barrier dropped, I gathered all my power and projected a bolt straight at the Elf to my right while Loki made quick work of the one on our left; the ease of our synchrony was most surprising.

Tense as ever, Loki and I turned in place to survey our surroundings. There was no doubt the field contained more of them, lurking, waiting. I flexed my fingers, anticipating the recovery of my energy—the extensive use of magic made it difficult to cast spells in such rapid succession. Amid the silence, we exchanged a look. Without him having to say a single word, I merely understood his urgent appeal for haste.

Before we even had a chance to resume our flight, a sharp pain lanced through my abdomen. I stumbled back from the force of it. It was so sudden, I had difficulty comprehending what had occurred: a puncture in my armour, the piercing of my flesh, the loss of blood.

Loki responded first by killing the archer with a dagger to the neck; he'd been lingering in the grass a dozen yards away while we slew his clan mates.

My foggy mind was slow to register the arrow in my side. I blinked down at the thin wooden shaft embedded a hand's length from my heart, right below my ribs. The sight of my own blood flowing so freely from the wound made me feel sick.

The rapidity with which my vision started to tunnel was terrifying. Loki held onto my arms, the only thing keeping me on my unsteady feet. His voice sounded distant and indistinct, like we'd leapt into the ocean and I could not reach the surface. "Eirlys? Can you move?" I could hardly make out his words. "We're nearly there."

I peered at him, my heart jolting at the sight of his wide, horror-struck eyes. Unable to speak, I nodded and tried to grasp his arm with uncooperative fingers.

We took no more than two steps before I stumbled and almost collapsed. But Loki never let me fall. He caught me around the waist, careful to avoid grazing my wound. Keeping his grip on me, he paused to cast a glance over his shoulder. Then, without warning, he lifted me, one arm around my shoulders with the other tucked beneath my knees.

I groaned, my head coming to a rest against his collarbone as he carried me through the field. We were hampered now that he was forced to bear me. I couldn't help wondering what he would do if I asked him to leave me behind. Injured, I was nothing but a hindrance. And it was my fault that we lingered in the castle. It was my fault that we were out here in the field when we could've been miles ahead of the Dark Elves. I didn't want to be the reason for our recapture.

I heard the rustling of the grass behind us—the Dark Elves were closing in. Holding me close, Loki persevered.

When we broke free from the field and entered the forest, his pace slowed. Gazing about with unfocussed eyes, I could only assume we'd crossed the border. Even so, that did not dissuade our pursuers from following.

The familiar _twang_ of loosing arrows reverberated in the air. Loki dove behind a tree, kneeling amongst its roots. Stiffening, he waited for the arrows to strike the trunk. Bark splintered and rained down upon us. Once it stopped, he deposited me in a bed of fallen leaves, ever heedful of my injury.

With a speed that struck me with awe, Loki leapt to his feet just as an Elven archer came circling around the tree trunk. He grabbed the archer's bow arm, diverting an arrow that had been meant for his eye. Dagger in hand, he stabbed the Elf in the throat, effectively ending his life in a matter of seconds. Grabbing another from his belt, Loki spun about and threw both blades through the trees, felling two more Elves who'd been sneaking upon us.

A quiet blanketed the forest. Loki had bought us time. How much time, I could not say.

His gaze dropped towards me. Wordless, he knelt to gather me in his arms once more. Through the trees we went, ducking beneath low-hanging branches and climbing over ferns until we found shelter, hidden within a thicket of trees. At the least, we were safe for the time being.

Breathing was beginning to prove challenging. The instant I inhaled sharply in an effort to catch my breath, an acute burst of pain exploded in my side. I shrieked and clenched the lapels of his leather surcoat until the agony subsided. With gentle hands, he lowered me to the ground and pulled my leather satchel over my head before bearing it himself. My back touched a root jutting from the forest floor, the bark rough against the nape of my neck.

I attempted to swallow only to find my mouth bone dry. Several lengthy seconds stretched on before I mustered the courage to dare look at my wound. The Elf had loosed an arrow with such a strength that it pierced through my armour as if it'd been made of silk; the arrow likely would've sunk far deeper if I hadn't worn any armour at all. I might've even died from such a wound—I tried to think of all the arteries the arrow could've severed, but my mind refused to cooperate.

At the rate I was bleeding, my death was still very much within the realm of possibility. If I left it be, I could've been dead in a matter of hours. I knew what course of action I had to take, as mad as it was.

"You must remove the arrow," I told Loki.

He looked at me as though I'd gone daft. "You'll bleed to death."

"I'm already bleeding to death." Tears sprang to my eyes. "I can't be certain how... how bad it is. But I know, at the least, I can try to stop the bleeding."

Loki stared at me for one long, unblinking moment. Seeming to understand my intention, he regarded the arrow in my side. "You mean to attempt healing yourself? You're weak enough as it is. You won't have the energy."

"If I don't try, I fear I will not survive the next hour. There's... I've lost too much blood." A tear escaped the corner of my eye, sliding to disappear in my matted hair.

Loki fell silent. For a time, all I could hear was the whisper of the forest around us, the distant flutter of a bird's wings, the howl of the wind. Blearily, I lifted my head to see him. My chest tightened when I beheld the clenching of his jaw, the fiery resolve in his eyes.

"No." He backed away and went digging through one of the pouches on his belt. His gaze held mine as he pulled out a green crystal about the width and length of my forefinger—a crystal from the cavern in Alfheim, the one we once thought could absorb and emanate magic. "You don't have enough energy on your own."

"But I can channel yours," I murmured. "If we were right about the crystal."

"Of course I'm right." His voice wavered for once. But I believed him. He glanced down at my wound again. "I will have to remove the arrow first, then divest you of your armour."

I squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation. The pain was going to be excruciating, that much I knew. I felt him unfastening the buckles at my sides and my shoulders, his fingers swift and steady. A strange notion passed through my mind then: the chest piece could've come off if it hadn't been for the arrow pinning it in place.

"Eirlys." I opened my eyes when Loki caressed the side of my face. Shivering, I pressed my cheek to his palm. The gesture was incredibly comforting. "I'm sorry."

With his opposite hand, he wrenched the arrow from my side.

He had to clamp his palm over my mouth to keep me from screaming aloud in agony. The pain was so intense, my flesh felt alight with fire. I didn't even realize I was writhing until Loki pushed down on my shoulders to hold me still. When the pain gradually dulled into a fierce throb, I stopped thrashing, but the much too rapid pounding of my heart did not slow.

He grabbed my right hand with his, the green crystal pressed amid our palms. In my pain-filled delirium, I managed to lay my left hand on the wound, rivulets of red streaming between my fingers. Shutting my eyes, I tried to tune out the anguish long enough to concentrate on the power flowing through our hands.

I felt the push and pull of magic between us. The crystal absorbed his power and let it surge into mine. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt. There was a spark, a radiance that bound me to him, like we'd been joined as one. Drawing on that energy, I channelled it from my fingers, up my arm and across my body. It flowed to my left hand where I endeavoured to heal the wound. I cried out, kicking at the ground as my spell began tugging at the torn flesh. The tissue inside knitted together, bit by bit, until I could do no more.

Everything seemed to spin when I finally let go. Panting heavily, I glanced downwards. The bleeding had ceased, as did my capacity to heal. With a clouded gaze, I blinked at Loki who hunched over me still. His face had turned as white as the snowy hills of Nidavellir from my siphoning of his magic.

"Do you think you'll be alright?" he asked faintly.

Choking back a whimper, I peeled my hand from the wound. It appeared just as foul as before, gaping and gory, but my lifeblood no longer issued forth. Even with all that I managed to repair, my healing was meagre. It was enough for me to survive until another healer could attend to me—that was if we could return to Asgard.

"For now. Yes." I leaned my head back on the tree root. "Though I fear I cannot move. I have lost much blood... I... I can't—" In a foolish attempt to rise, I felt the piercing sting of my wound once more. The torment garnered another yelp from me.

"Eirlys, don't... just don't do that again." His arms slipped behind my back and beneath my knees as he'd done earlier. I stilled half a second before he hefted me into his grasp. Gritting my teeth, I stifled another cry. My ruined armour fell to the wayside, forgotten. "I'll bring you home."

He walked, weaving between the trees, with me curled against him. My vision faded in and out as we travelled through the Svartalfheim wood, and the hours drifted past as if this were all a dream. A strange and horrible dream...

Green.

Green was all that occupied my addled mind. There was green all around us. Above and below. Even the embellishments on Loki's garb were green. I was reminded of him standing before me in the arena box, green cape fluttering at his back as we shared a smile. It brought me peace despite the dull throb that continued to spread from my wound.

Loki glanced down at me every so often, weary lines etching his brow, dark shadows burgeoning beneath his eyes. He simply ambled forward, while I floated between sleeping and waking. I knew not how long we ventured before finding the opposite end of the forest. Once free of the woodland, we were met with barren terrain.

Some time later, my wits returned to me. The sun sat high in the sky, hidden behind roiling grey clouds. As we came to an incline, I noticed Loki slowing his steps. I peered up at him to see the perturbed look marring his expression. "What is it?" I asked softly.

"I heard something," he told me. I clutched onto the front of his surcoat to keep from jostling. "Someone approaches."

I lurched, my unseeing eyes darting about. "We have nowhere to hide."

"No, they're not Elves." Loki held me closer, and I could hear the relief when he spoke again, "Their footsteps are far too loud."

With several long strides, he continued up the slope and reached the height of the knoll. At its crest, we were able to observe the land on the other side. There, in the distance, we could see four unmistakable figures running towards us. Sure enough, they'd spotted us too.

"Brother!" Thor's voice boomed like thunder across the land. I wouldn't have been surprised if every Dark Elf within a league could hear him, but I was so relieved to see him that I didn't think about it twice. "Brother, we have found you!"

From beside him, Fandral cried, "Thank the Norns! Everyone has been fraught with worry."

They, along with Hogun and Sif, neared us the moment Loki made it to the bottom of the hill. Sif hurried forth and touched my hand, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze. The blood made our skin stick together. "I am glad you are safe, my friend," she said. In my state, I could only offer her a quavering smile in return. When she drew away, she took notice of the red.

Thor's gaze darted between Loki and myself, almost confusedly so. "You are injured worse than was believed."

"Eirlys was struck by an arrow," Loki said. "She's stopped the bleeding, but the wound will only stay as it is for so long."

"Let me take her," Thor insisted. Before Loki could react, Thor was already tugging me from his arms. For a second it seemed like Loki wasn't going to let go, but once I was tucked safely in his brother's hold, he stepped back. "We were in the midst of planning your rescue when Heimdall sent for us and told us to find you out here."

"Hildegund," I muttered. "Is Hildegund alright?"

"Mother is making the cure as we speak," Thor said. "Let us leave this place. The Bifrost site is not far."

As suggested, our company hastened across the land.

We seemed to make good time. Thor managed to run with me in his arms as if I weighed no more than a feather pillow. I had to cling onto his neck for dear life at the speed he was going. Over his shoulder, I could see Loki following a short distance behind. His skin was pallid, and his eyes appeared sunken and unfocussed from our ordeal, but he never faltered.

It was less than a league to the Bifrost site from where we'd convened with Thor and our friends. Within an hour, we reached the large black rune seared into the ground. It was an exceedingly welcome sight; I felt like I hadn't seen the Bifrost in weeks.

Thor lowered me carefully, standing me on my feet. He kept his grip on my back while I stood before him, my hands laid on his broad chest to balance myself.

I felt the distinct pull of the Bifrost while it whipped the air and dirt all around us. My legs trembled as we waited, and I found my gaze wandering towards Loki once more. He returned my look steadily, the smallest smile of relief gracing his features. I responded in kind before the Bifrost took us home.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And so another adventure ends with a near-death experience :)

I'd like to thank my hardworking beta, **Hr'awkryn** for helping me with this real doozy of a chapter. I also extend my gratitude to all my readers—you lovely people give me the motivation to keep going.

A review response to **Benji**: Yeah, that's actually what I was going for. Any sense of dedication on Loki's part is not evidenced a lot in canon, considering, you know, he virtually has no friends anymore. But I figured, before the movies' events, he would treat the few people he was close to with care, particularly someone like Frigga or Eirlys. Thanks again for reviewing!

Please take a moment to write a review. I always appreciate hearing from you!


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